I don't suppose it's worth the price I would pay
by ylc
Summary: AU Fic. Special Agent Aziraphale Engel gets sent to an special mission that involves meeting with enemy agent, Anthony J. Crowley. Things get... complicated, to say at least. Now with a title, it comes from the song "barely breathing"
1. Chapter 1

I left this fandom a while ago. However, recently, for some reason, my love for this book and its fandom came back with full force so… here I am. Hope you enjoy it!

Originally, I posted this in another place, because I'm sort of hiding from my readers from THG fandom but... well, I figured I'll publish it here too... LOL F

Also, there's a reason why Aziraphale is a female and it all make sense... at some point, I promise! English is not my native language, so feel free to point out any mistakes!

Good Omens and all characters related are property of Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman.

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Chapter 1

A first meeting.

The meeting place was a small café near St. James Park. It had seemed a smart choice: the place wasn't owned by any member of either side, it was out in the open which made an attack easier, but less likely to occur. All in all, Aziraphale though it had been a good decision.

The tee was awful, though.

Or maybe it was just her nervousness. She took another sip from her rather bland tee and glanced at her watch. It seemed that the other side's envoy was running late. Expected, of course, but unwelcome anyway.

She sighed. She wished she hadn't been chosen for this assignment, but ever since Michel had informed her Division of the task, she had known she would be the most logical choice. Aziraphale was a born diplomatic: her calm demeanor, along with her politeness and her undeniable ability to defend herself if needed (both verbally and physically) made her the perfect woman for the job.

Why had her organization decided they needed to have a meeting with the other side was something she didn't question.

Sighing again, she took her book out of her purse. If she was going to wait any longer, she better get comfortable. She had just started reading the first page when someone took seat in front of her. She put her book down and glanced at the newcomer.

It was a handsome man, with dark hair and high cheekbones. He smiled (or was it a smirk?) at her, taking off his sunglasses and offering her his hand "Anthony J. Crowley" he introduced himself "I'm Hell's envoy"

"Aziraphale Engel" she said, taking his hand and shaking it "You're late" she pointed out.

The man smiled again "Well… yes. But that's to be expected from someone from my side"

"I know"

They stared at each other, measuring their opponent. Aziraphale was fairly sure that Hell had chosen Crowley because of how attractive he was. So attractive that it was almost distracting.

Almost being the key word. After all, Aziraphale wasn't one to be distracted by something so trivial.

She briefly wondered what he thought about her. She knew she was pretty, but rather plain and that her clothing was anything but fashionable. They made quite a contrast, she supposed, considering just how nicely he was dressed. She suddenly wished she had worn a dress, instead of her plain trousers and her frumpy sweater.

But that was just silly. She was on a meeting with an enemy agent, not on a date!

"So, Mr. Crowley, I…"

"Just Crowley"

She stared at him after the interruption, frowning slightly "Right. So, Crowley, my people sent me…"

"I think that before we continue this meeting, we should get rid of our weapons. As an act of… good will, if you wish"

Aziraphale almost groaned. Why did he keep interrupting her? "What makes you think I'm carrying a weapon?" Crowley just stared at her and Aziraphale sighed "Fine" she whispered darkly, taking out the dagger she always keep hidden beneath her sleeve out with one smooth movement and placing it on the table "There. Happy?"

Crowley smirked and then took a gun out of his belt, tossing it casually next to Aziraphale's dagger "It's an odd choice of weapon, don't you think?"

Aziraphale shrugged. "I've never liked guns. They seem so… impersonal"

"Well, I don't like any weapon that makes me come too close to my opponent. Would get blood all over my clothes"

"Of course. You wouldn't want any blood over those fancy clothes of yours"

"I suppose that in your case that doesn't matter much, does it?"

"What is that supposed to mean?" Aziraphale asked, her voice rising slightly. She glared at Crowley, who just keep on smirking and she took a deep calming breath. So much for calm demeanor… "Anyway, we're not here to discuss my fashion sense…"

"Or lack of it"

"We're here to discuss an Arrangement of sorts between our sides" she continued, as if he hadn't spoken. She was getting more and more convinced on the fact that her companion had been chosen for this mission because of his handsomeness and not on his diplomacy skills.

"Right. So, Zira…"

"Don't call me that"

"Oh, come on, you don't expect me to use your whole name? It's a mouthful"

"It's not…"

"What does it mean, anyway?"

Aziraphale sighed. She suspected it was going to be a long afternoon…

* * *

"So, how was your meeting?" Michel asked the next morning, just as soon as she entered the room. Aziraphale groaned.

"It was hell"

"Well, I expected as much" her supervisor said, with a teasing smile that made Aziraphale glare at him "what did you think of your contact?"

"He's an ass. I can imagine working with him on the long term"

"Do you want me to choose someone else?"

Aziraphale thought about it for a couple of seconds "No. I can handle it"

"I know you can Zira. You're my best agent!"

She smiled. That much was true. She still didn't like her new assignment "I've started searching for information about my contact. I haven't found much, though…"

"Probably because he's not high enough for us to have a personal record on him" announced a pissed off voice behind them. Michel rolled his eyes and turned around to face the newcomer.

"We've been through this, Metatron. Zira's the best for the job"

James "Metatron" Good, Director of Heaven's Field Division wasn't even paying attention to Michel. His gaze was fixed on Aziraphale, who smiled somewhat shyly and tried not to look too unconformable.

"We could have sent someone else. We didn't need to send a special agent for this. Anyone else…"

"Anyone else wouldn't have made out the most of this mission" Michel argued, crossing his arms in front of him "Zira will get us info that nobody else will"

"Well, I don't know about that" Aziraphale interrupted before the Metatron could retort "But I don't mind. And I'll do my best to get as much info as possible. Really James, there's no need for you to worry"

"Hpmh. Just don't do anything foolish, Aziraphale" and with that, he left. Michel glared and Aziraphale let out the breath she didn't even knew she was holding.

"He's so… argh!" exclaimed Michel, his attention once more on Aziraphale. She just smiled "Guess that's what I get for sending his fiancée on a dangerous mission, huh?"

"Probably" Aziraphale agreed "But don't worry about him, Michel. I'll handle this"

Michel nodded curtly "I certainly hope so, Zira. I wouldn't want the Metatron going all "I told you so" on me if something happens to you…"

"I'll be fine" she argued, with a dismissing wave of her hand "Anthony Crowley may be a headache, but he's not dangerous"

He was awfully handsome, though.

* * *

So... liked it? hated it? Let me know! Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

New chapter! Usual disclaimer, Good Omens and its characters don't belong to me.

Chapter 2

Records

All in all, it had been a nice afternoon. Crowley had to admit he had been pleasantly surprised with Heaven's choice of envoy. He had expected an all muscle and no brain kind of guy and instead had ended with a woman who was witty, clever and somewhat sweet.

With a horrid fashion-sense too.

And she had managed to keep her cool through most of their conversation. Which was quite an accomplishment, if you asked any of Crowley's supervisors. He knew he could be beyond annoying when he wanted to and considering he hadn't wanted to go on this mission, annoying was exactly what he was going for. He had half expected that if his bosses figured out he wasn't being very diplomatic, they'll take him out.

That wasn't his plan anymore, though.

Aziraphale was… refreshing. She wasn't like any women Crowley had met before (not that he met many, mostly just girls from work) but he had liked talking to her. He hadn't let her notice, though. He had been as obnoxious as possible, but she had stayed calm, forever smiling (even if it looked quite forced) and always polite. And she had retorted to every insult he had thrown at her in a witty manner (or had completely ignored him), not even once losing her temper.

An interesting woman, to say at least.

He sat down on his couch, a glass of whisky in his hand. He looked around his apartment and sighed. He knew his bosses were expecting him back at the office so he could report his findings, but he didn't feel like it. Besides, it was nearly 9 pm. He should go to sleep.

He checked his phone. As he expected, he had 3 missed calls from "Office", 2 from "Hastur", 5 from "Ligur" and a text from Scarlett. He opened the message.

_Where are you? Hastur is going ballistic and you're missing all the fun!_

He rolled his eyes. Trust Scarlett to find their boss yelling at everyone for everything to find it amusing.

Well, all the more reason to go to bed.

He sent one last text to Scarlett, letting her know he wasn't coming back and asking her to get him as much information as possible rewarding Aziraphale Engel. Then he finished his drink and went to bed.

It had been a long day.

* * *

Crowley woke up early and checked his phone. He had another 5 missed calls from Hastur and an email. Once more he ignored the calls and opened his e-mail.

It was from Ligur and it contained all the information Hell had on Aziraphale Engel.

Capitan Aziraphale Engel, apparently.

Interesting. So Heaven had sent some higher-up. Huh. He bet they would be most disappointed when they looked for Crowley's record. Crowley's almost non-existent record.

He knew what they would think. They would think that Hell had sent some random minion to do the job when they had sent a Capitan for the meeting. Heaven will be furious. He smirked. All as well then…

It wasn't that Crowley wasn't a higher-up. It was just that he wasn't technically in Hell's Field Division. He was on the Spying Division and his rank was more or less the same as Aziraphale's, but of course Heaven might never find that out. Keeping a low profile was part of the job description, after all.

He skimmed through Aziraphale's record. Aged 28, no-family, member of Heaven for 8 years. Single, but engaged. He almost had a heart attack when he read to whom she was engaged.

Metatron's-soon-to-be-wife. Who would have thought? He certainly couldn't picture her married to Heaven's Field Division Director. Huh. Nop, he definitely couldn't picture that.

Well, all the more reason for Heaven to be angry at Hell's choice of envoy.

He smirked once more and kept on reading. It was quite impressive. Aziraphale was even more talented and resourceful as he had originally thought. The more he read, the more he liked her.

But of course, the more he read, the more unsure he became about them continuing to meet. He might never see her again; maybe Heaven would decide that Hell wasn't being serious enough about this Agreement. Oh well… that wasn't his fault, was it? And it wasn't as if he wanted to see her again. If needed, he could work with her. But he wasn't looking forward it.

Nop. Not looking forward at all.

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What did you think? Please review!


	3. Chapter 3

So… here's a new chapter. I'm a little upset by the lack of response this fic has had but… well, I really wanted to write this story so I guess I'll keep on writing.

Good Omens and all characters related are property of Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman.

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Chapter 3

Second meeting

"So, Heaven decided to continue with this, huh?"

Aziraphale looked up from her book and stared at Crowley "Why wouldn't we?"

"Well, _Capitan _Engel, I assumed your people might have gotten slightly angry at the fact that you actually have a rank and I don't"

"Oh, that" Aziraphale closed her book and put it away while Crowley took seat in front of her "Well, James was pretty angry. But I convinced him we should keep up with this" she smiled "you read my record?"

"Of course" answered Crowley, smirking at her "Quite impressive, I must say"

"Not nearly as impressive as yours, Mr. Serpent" Crowley stared at her as if she had grown a second head. Aziraphale smirked "Oh, sorry. I wasn't supposed to know that?"

"How did you…?"

"I did my homework" she said, still smirking "Took me a while to figure it out, but I managed. You've certainly got a certain… signature"

"I'm impressed" Crowley stated, leaning back on his seat "even more impressed I was after reading your record"

"I'm good at my job, Crowley"

"Oh, no. If you were good at your job, you'd figured it out somewhere around our 10th meeting. Figuring out after just a meeting? That's bloody brilliant Zira!"

"Don't call me that"

He rolled his eyes "So, what should I call you then? Capitan Engel?"

"That would be nice"

"Yeah. That's why I'm not doing it" he argued. Aziraphale just keep staring at him "anyway, let's talk about something else" he waited for the waiter who had just appeared to finish pouring him some tee and took a sip "this thing is horrid"

"It is" Aziraphale agreed, with a soft smile "Maybe we should change the meeting place"

"Yeah. That's a good idea. There's a nice bistro just around the corner…"

"It's a closed space" Aziraphale interrupted and Crowley arched an eyebrow.

"Really? You're going to keep on drinking this god-awful tee so we can keep on meeting on an open space?"

Aziraphale thought about it for a minute "there's a nice sushi restaurant in SoHo that I like. It's almost lunch time, so maybe…"

"SoHo, really? Do I look like someone who can be talked into going to SoHo?"

Aziraphale scoffed "Right. I forgot. Mr. Fancy Pants wouldn't be caught dead in SoHo" she rolled her eyes while Crowley glared at her and then she took another sip of her tee, making a face "well; I'm out of options, then"

"What? Do you spend all your time around SoHo?"

Aziraphale shrugged, blushing a little "I like to stay in the neighborhood"

"You don't live in SoHo" he argued "which reminds me, why is your address listed at the same as the Archangels?"

"My listed address is not necessary my actual address, you know? I moved out of Michel's a while ago" she smiled "SoHo is a perfectly nice neighborhood"

"Yeah. I'm sure it is. You're still not dragging me there" Crowley looked around, thinking "we could always meet at St. James. How does the duck pond sounds?"

"Humph. I guess it'll do" Aziraphale nodded "we'll meet there next time, alright? Now, shall we get down to business?"

There were thousands of things that Crowley wanted to ask Aziraphale: his curiosity had been certainly picked by her figuring out exactly who he was but… well, he'd ask later.

They had time, after all.

* * *

That night, back at her home, Aziraphale sat in her battered bed, writing her newest report on her meeting with Crowley. She was amazed how easy it came talking to the enemy's agent. It was odd, really, she never felt that much at ease with anyone.

After she told him she had figured out he was the Serpent, he had treated her with a renewed respect. He was still irritating and made fun of her every time he could, but she could tell that was all part of his personality. It was obvious he behaved like that always and it wasn't personal.

She reread her report. They had spent 5 hours talking and yet, her report was barely a page long. That might have been because they had ended discussing their respective housing ideas. It had been an almost friendly banter, each pointing out the benefits of their neighborhoods. She had no idea how they had managed that.

She hadn't liked him after their first meeting. But now… it just seemed so easy. And that was dangerous. Much more dangerous than anything else. She could handle a silly crush on a horrid man who was just too handsome for his own sake. However, this… connection?

It was beyond dangerous.

She had to watch herself. It wouldn't do to get to friendly with the enemy. It might be his plan; getting her to relax around him so he could strike. Aziraphale wouldn't be fooled.

She was good at her job. She was bloody brilliant at it. She wouldn't get side-tracked. She'd carry on with her assignment and she would not get attached to an enemy.

No matter how charming and handsome he was.

* * *

Thanks for reading. Please leave a comment!


	4. Chapter 4

So… here's a new chapter. Still no reviews… I'm kinda sad. But I guess that the fact that I keep updating just proves how much I want to keep on writing this. I mean, I have a couple of other fics that readers keep asking me to update but inspiration just won't come… Well, that's how inspiration works, I guess.

Good Omens and all characters related are property of Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman.

* * *

Chapter 4

Impressions.

The woman sitting in front of him and the woman that Hell's records paint, are two completely different women. Aziraphale is soft spoken, sweet, funny. _Capitan Engel_ is strong, fearless and even heartless. The tales of her abandoning fellow members of Heaven when on a mission, all for the greater good, are legendary. However, Crowley can't imagine her leaving someone to their fate. Aziraphale seems incapable of hurting anyone, less alone murdering in cold blood.

And yet…

As she laughs at one of his jokes, Crowley ponders just who exactly is this girl. By now, four months after their first meeting, he's beyond impressed. She has a way of reading between the lines that never ceases to amaze him. The things she can figure out based on his most pointless comments… He imagines her reports on their meetings are long, detailed and full of important things and yet, he can't remember ever telling her something of great importance. However, somehow, she knows.

It's a bit unnerving.

She smiles and he finds himself, once more, gazing at her lips. Her very soft looking lips. There's certain softness about her: in her eyes, her smiles, her body. But it's all a pretense, because there's more about Aziraphale than meets the eye. She possesses a sharpness that it's impossible to imagine based just on her looks. There's also something dark and dangerous lurking just beneath the surface: something that drags Crowley in like nothing else has before. There's no point in denying it: he likes Aziraphale Engel more than what's prudent.

"You know Zira, you don't strike me as an agent of Heaven. You seem more like the scholar type" he says and he has to fight back his impulse of kissing her when she puckers her lips.

"Well… before I joined Heaven, I was doing a Major in English Literature. But it just seemed so… dull. I wanted to do something more with my life. Something meaningful" she smirks and Crowley has to look away. He likes when she smiles, but he loves when she smirks. There's something very… fetching about it "Here's a fun fact. Do you know why our organizations are called Heaven and Hell?"

She's full of "fun facts" as she likes to call them and shares them at the most random moments. It's easy to see she's very well read and once again, that clashes with her image as one of Heaven's most ruthless Capitans. Nothing about the way she talks or moves, speaks of great strength or fighting ability and yet…

"No, I don't" Crowley shrugs "I've never taken much interest in history"

"Well, you should, my dear boy" her use of endearments is distracting, especially when his stomach insist on flipping every time she calls him "dear"

"Why should I? You know enough for both of us" he throws a piece of bread to a duck that has just approached them, trying to distract himself from the way Aziraphale is looking at him. It makes him feel strangely guilty not sharing her interests.

Aziraphale shrugs "Well, it's something rather silly. The thing is, Hell's founder was named Lucifer Diable. Very unfortunate name, if you ask me. So, anyway, a group of journalist decided that your organization's original name (which I haven't been able to find out, I guess it was lost) was too long, so they choose to call them "Hell", making allusion to its founder name. So, when Heaven was founded, and considering their main goal was to wane Hell's power…"

"That's stupid"

Aziraphale laughed quietly "Rather silly, I think. The press has such strength… funny how our sides' names weren't even chosen by the founders"

Crowley nods absent-mindedly. His attention is focused on the way the sun reflects on Aziraphale's hair and how young and innocent she looks…

This is ridiculous. This whole "crush" on the enemy is beyond stupid. She's not even pretty enough to justify his obsession with her.

"Funny how, somehow, Heaven's higher-ups names have some sort of angelic reference" Crowley points out and from the corner of his eye, he catches Aziraphale smirking again. Once more, he looks away quickly.

"Yes. Odd, that"

"The Metatron…"

"Well, to be fair, James…"

"The Archangels…"

"Oh, when Michel told me his last name I thought he was kidding…"

"Your last name… it's angel in German, right?"

"Right" Aziraphale nods, her smirk going wider "but that's on purpose. Engel is not really my last name"

"It isn't?" he asks, confused, trying to remember if he has read anything rewarding Aziraphale having a false name.

"No. Long story short, my family disowned me when I joined Heaven. I lost everything, including, of course, my last name"

"Oh… But Aziraphale is your real name, isn't it?"

"Yes" she throws a piece of bread to the ducks, carefully avoiding Crowley's gaze. He smirks "Well, there's something I can work with"

"Huh?" she asks, looking at him, her eyes wide and beautiful and Crowley has to fight back every instinct telling him to go ahead and just kiss her.

"Your real name. I'm gonna find out what it is"

Aziraphale chuckles "Well, you're welcome to try, my dear, but I sincerely doubt you'll succeed. It's been 12 years… I'm willing to bet my parents have managed to vanish every proof of my existence. As far as they're concerned, I was never even born"

She doesn't sound bitter; if anything, she sounds amused. Crowley finds it all very intriguing "Does anyone in Heaven knows your real name?"

"Yes. James"

"Ah, of course. I suppose is part of the information the fiancé is allowed to know"

"Oh, no. He knows because we knew each other when we were kids. We grew up in the same neighborhood, went to the same schools… all that"

That explains her distaste for his fancy clothes and choice of neighborhood. If she grew up where the Metatron did, she must have been filthy rich "You've got any brothers or sisters?"

"No. I was an only child. Hence my parents disappointment" she smiles "what about you?"

"I have a half-sister. We… don't get along" Aziraphale arches an eyebrow "Yeah… long story short, she promised our father she wouldn't kill me as long as I stayed out of her way"

It's obvious Aziraphale is not sure if he's kidding or not, so she doesn't comment. He isn't. His sister did try to kill him in the past, but nowadays she mostly just ignores him. It suits him just fine.

"We should say goodbye" Aziraphale whispers, glancing at her watch "It's late and I've got to go back to work"

"Right" He offers her his hand and she takes it, smiling "maybe next time you'll let me buy you lunch"

"Maybe" she agrees "maybe you could take me to that nice little bistro close to our original meeting place"

"It's a date, then"

Aziraphale seems torn between smiling and running away as fast as she can. Finally, she just shakes her head and starts walking away "See you around, dear"

"Later, angel"

He watched her go, a smile playing on his lips. It's upsetting, really, how much he has grown to like these little meetings. He enjoys talking to Aziraphale more than talking to any other of his colleagues. He supposes it's not a good thing.

But Crowley can´t bring himself to mind. After all, Aziraphale is far more interesting than anyone else in the world.

* * *

So… what do you think? Thanks for reading, pretty please review?


	5. Chapter 5

New chapter! Hope you'll like it…

Good Omens and all characters related are property of Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman.

* * *

Chapter 5

Beautiful

Aziraphale has never liked to be the center of attention. However, she finds herself the object of people's attention far too often. Either because of her superb job (which she doesn't mind that much), her rather unflattering clothing or because of her company.

She's not sure how does that happen, but she finds herself constantly in company of very handsome men.

She knows she isn't the prettiest girl. Still, it's uncomfortable the looks she receives whenever she goes out with her fiancé, or her boss, or her "enemy"…

The women sitting in front of them have been eying Crowley the whole evening. Aziraphale doesn't like it; regardless of their supposed "enmity", she likes Crowley. And not only in the "friendship" sense. But what really bothers her is the way the women look at her, like she's some sort of disgusting bug, not worth noticing, less alone spending time with her. They keep trying to catch Crowley's attention; sometimes in subtle ways and sometimes… in not so subtle ways.

Like right now, when one of them "drops" something, stands up to retrieve it and makes sure to bend in such a way that her ample bosom is well on display and in Crowley's line of sight.

It's just downright rude.

Crowley snickers at her distaste. He has noticed the women attempts to get his attention, but he's ignoring them. His whole focus is on Aziraphale and she feels rather flattered, especially considering she's wearing a ridiculously big sweater with some horrendous jeans. She sometimes feels like dressing up for their meetings, but changes her mind right away; she's working, not trying to pick Crowley up.

Not that she thinks she would succeed, if she tried.

"Can I ask you something rather… personal?" he asks, swirling his glass of wine, looking rather hesitant, which makes Aziraphale feel rather nervous. She nods, just once, wondering what does he want to ask that he feels needs so much ceremony "how does a girl like you end up engaged to the Metatron?"

She frowns, her lips becoming a very thin line. She has been asked this before. She has read tabloids asking the very same question. How does a girl like her- unattractive, unglamorous, plain- gets a man like James "Metatron" Good, who's handsome, powerful and rich? She has learned to deal with the slightly offensive question, but somehow it hurts more when Crowley is the one asking.

"It's a long story" she says, trying to keep her anger and hurt at bay "we were high-school sweethearts"

Crowley snorts at that and Aziraphale can't help to smile. She loves every little noise he makes; it's amazing how many things he manages to convey with each sound he makes "we got engaged when I was 16. But then… he went to college and… well, we sort of stopped seeing each other"

Crowley nods and she thinks of what else should she tell him. Should she tell him about what really happened with her parents? They real reason they had to call their engagement off? Of how James invited her to join Heaven afterwards? Of how thankful she felt towards her fiancé for helping her to pick up the pieces her life became shortly after she turned 18 even if he did break up with her?

No. That was too private. She might have told him, if he hadn't phrased his question the way he had, but right then she felt vulnerable and really didn't want to share so much with him "I joined Heaven when I was 19. I started working on the Field Division and one day we got sent to a mission. We… well, we got captured and we were certain we were going to die… so, James started going on about how much he had always liked me and how sorry he was he broke up our engagement and he told me that, if we made it out alive of that whole mess, he would marry me"

Crowley arches his eyebrows, an ironic smile playing on his lips and Aziraphale smiles "So, that night, I… well, one of the guards thought it would be easy to have his way with me, so he takes me out of my cell… and I punch the living lights out of him. I took his keys, opened James' cell and we ran away. A week after, I found an engagement ring sitting on my desk"

"How romantic"

Aziraphale laughs, but it's bitter "That's what I thought. I tried to talk him out of it; I understood we were on a rather stressing situation. But James said that he didn't feel obligated in any way but… he wanted to" she has to smile at the memory. It certainly was really sweet. Even if she and James weren't in love…

"So, let me get this straight. You're marrying him because you saved his life? How does that work?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, seems to me, you're getting the short end of the stick. I mean, he gets a beautiful, talented, smart, resourceful wife, who can save his sorry ass whenever necessary and what do you get? A self-centered, righteous, full of himself bastard?"

Aziraphale feels torn between defending her fiancé and enjoying Crowley's words. Did he notice all the nice things he said about her? He probably did, considering he looks away after finishing his speech and his cheeks became a rather lovely shade of red. "You're blushing"

"Yes, well… I'm drunk"

She doesn't press it. She knows Crowley never intended to let her know he thinks all those things about her. If he didn't look so embarrassed, she would have thought he was lying. But the words are so heartfelt and he looks so ashamed she knows he does think them.

She has never felt more flattered in her life.

So she beams at him. She doesn't smile, she beams. Crowley looks even more sheepish and she hurries to change the topic. After all, they are supposed to be discussing business, no their opinions on each other.

However, she does sit a little bit straighter and she shots the women in the other table a triumphing smile. Crowley smiles too, even if his is a little unsure. Yet they carry on as if nothing had happened.

But something has.

* * *

So… what do you think? This story makes perfect sense in my head, but somehow I just don't feel it translates so well when I try to write it down… It might have something to do with the fact that sometimes I plan some parts in Spanish and when I try to write them in English… it's complicated.

Thanks for reading! Comments, anyone?


	6. Chapter 6

And here's a new chapter… enjoy!

Good Omens and all characters related are property of Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman.

* * *

Chapter 6

Trust.

Admittedly, he might have drunk a little too much. But it was Aziraphale's fault. If she hadn't… well, if she hadn't look so self-depreciating after he had asked her how had she ended up engaged to the Metatron, he wouldn't have told her what he thought about her, totally embarrassing himself and therefore being force to drink so much trying to forget. But it was silly, really. How could she even think she didn't deserve that jerk? She deserved so much more! Who wouldn't want her? Who, on his right mind, wouldn't want her?

That was the biggest problem. He wanted her. He desperately wanted her. And if it was just in a sexual way, it wouldn't have been too much of a problem. He knew he was good-looking enough and was blessed with a silver tongue for him to have any girl he wanted. But he wanted so much more from Aziraphale…

It was all very dangerous. And yet, he found himself not minding at all.

"Let me drive you home" he offered, seeing she was just as intoxicated as he was. Aziraphale looked at him appraisingly and frowned lightly "You're driving? Like this?"

"Why not?"

"You're drunk" she stated and he rolled his eyes.

"I've noticed. I can still drive"

"I sincerely doubt it"

"I'm talking to you, aren't I? If I'm sober enough to hold up a conversation, I can definitely drive"

"I think driving requires a little more coordination than talking" she argued, suddenly taking his hand and effectively silencing all further protests "Come on, we'll get a cab"

"I don't like cabs…" he complained, but let her guide him. Her hand felt warm in his and he never wanted to let go. Huh. He must be very drunk to even be thinking that.

"Think of all those poor other drivers you could harm… or worse, the pedestrians…"

"Don't care. I'm driving"

"Come on, dear. Don't be difficult. Let's get a cab, we'll go to your place and finish what we started, huh? How does that sound?"

Sounded too good to be true. Had he passed out drunk and was now dreaming? Aziraphale couldn't be suggesting what he thought she was suggesting… "Finish what we started?"

"Getting ridiculously drunk"

"Oh. Right" yep, definitely not what he was thinking "sounds like a plan" he still smiled, because he was taking her to his home and… well, once they were inside his apartment, all the bets were off. This would definitely stop being a business meeting.

* * *

They were now sitting in the back of the cab, their bodies far closer than what was necessary. It was nice, Crowley thought, and maybe it wasn't so bad not having taken his own car. Their thighs wouldn't be pressing so close together if he had been driving…

Aziraphale rested her head on his shoulder and Crowley let out a satisfied hiss. He tended to do that: hiss when he was drunk. Or extremely satisfied. He wasn't sure which case was this one.

She looked up at him, a soft smile on her lips and he looked away. He wouldn't ruin the night by kissing her. She was starting to trust him; he could tell by all the small concessions she made: meeting on a closed space, drinking, going to his place…

The scary thing was that he trusted her too. Showing an enemy agent where you live was a very stupid thing to do. But he didn't mind. He couldn't think of Aziraphale as an enemy, and that was even scarier. He would be in deep trouble if someone figured out he enjoyed their little meetings more than he should. That he sometimes babbled things he really shouldn't. That he wasn't reporting all the things Aziraphale told him, because he knew she wasn't thinking straight when she shared them with him.

They've been meeting for 10 months by now, but somehow it feels so right… like they've known each other since forever…

Why does he keep thinking all those mushy things?!

"We're here" he announced, the cab finally pulling in front of his building.

"Mayfair?" Aziraphale asks, looking around and recognizing their surroundings "figures"

He smirks at her and offers her his hand to get out the cab. She takes it and exits the automobile much more gracefully than she ought to, considering how much they've been drinking. Still, she almost trips after a couple of steps and Crowley hurries to help her to regain her balance. They end up walking towards the building leaning heavily on each other.

It's awfully nice.

* * *

"I have to admit, Zira, you can hold your alcohol better than anyone that I've ever known" he slurs drunkenly, his words barely understandable. Aziraphale glances at her glass of wine, notices it's empty and refills it, trying to spill as little as possible.

"You realize this" she gestures vaguely at themselves and at the empty glasses between them "it's very dangerous"

"How so?" he asks, not really paying attention as he attempts to refill his glass. Finally, Aziraphale takes pity on him and helps him.

"We're enemies, Crowley. We shouldn't… get drunk in each other company"

"Umm" Crowley nods, absent-mindedly "Yeah, dangerous. More dangerous for you than for me"

"How so?" she asks, genuinely perplexed and Crowley smiles like as a snake. And also quick as one, he moves from his side of the couch to Aziraphale's side, pinning her down and spilling all of her wine on his carpet.

"I hold my wine even better that you" he whispers darkly against her ear, all his previous hesitation forgotten. Aziraphale just stares at him, not looking even slightly worried. Instead, she smiles too.

"Is that so?"

He doesn't know how does it happen, but suddenly he finds himself flat on his back, Aziraphale on top of him, her legs holding him on place and the tip of a dagger against his throat "Don't underestimate me, dear. Nobody who has, ended up well"

She stands up on unsteady legs and plops on the couch. Crowley stares at her, mesmerized. The more he knows her, the more she manages to surprise him.

And allure him.

She's fascinating.

* * *

They drink and drink and soon enough, they can barely keep on talking. They basically babble incoherently while the other nods enthusiastically and they break down on giggles every now and then. However, Crowley can't remember ever feeling his good. He knows there'll be hell to pay tomorrow morning, when they'll both wake up with awful headaches and upsets stomachs but right now…

It doesn't matter.

Nothing matters.

* * *

So… what do you think? Too OOC? Can't really write drunken scenes… my English is not good enough for that. LOL. Thanks for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

A new chapter! Hope you'll enjoy.

Good Omens and all characters related are property of Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman.

* * *

Chapter 7

Morning after

What she finds more unnerving is how much she has come to trust the enemy's agent in the few months of their association. She doesn't trust easily, it's just not in her nature. However, there's a certain… affinity with Crowley that makes it so easy to trust him…

Which is a very stupid thing to do, that's for certain.

However, here she is, after 10 months of meetings, waking up with an awful headache, sprawled on Crowley's bed, with him firmly pressed against her side. She has never, not even once, gotten drunk with Michel (or, God forbid, James) and yet… here she is.

She groans and tries to sit up. Crowley protests and his grip on her waist tightens, but Aziraphale barely notices. She looks around the room, taking into account the state of her surroundings. There are a couple of glasses on the night table, half filled. The bed is messy, with the sheets tangled around their feet. Her sweater is missing and also most of Crowley's clothes (actually, he's only wearing his boxers), but she's wearing enough clothes to feel confident that nothing else happened. That's good: worse than waking up next to her enemy, would be waking up next to the enemy, after having had sex with him.

She got out of bed, after wrestling with Crowley's arms wrapped around her middle. He's surprisingly strong for someone so thin, especially considering he's asleep. She remembers fragments of the night before: she remembers him on top of her, pinning her to the couch and her pulse quickens. She also remembers pushing him off; basically straddling him and her trying to play it cool afterwards.

This is bad. So bad.

She picks up her purse and fishes out her phone. No missed calls, no texts. Good thing last night she had enough presence of mind to think of sending Michel a text, letting him know she was fine, but tired and that she wouldn't go back to the office.

She wondered how long she could keep up with this. This was no longer a business relationship. There was something deeper growing between her and Crowley, but she didn't know what. She didn't want to know either. It was far too scary.

She went to the kitchen, trying to hunt down something to eat. Her mouth had an awful taste and she was thirsty. She opened the fridge and found a carton of milk. An open carton of milk that smelled funny. She made a face and throw it out.

Well, she better find her sweater and go get something to eat. Crowley didn't seem inclined to leave bed anytime soon and she was hungry. Sighing, she took Crowley's keys that were lying on top of the kitchen table, found her sweater lying underneath the couch (she didn't want to know how it had ended there) and went out.

She would come back later, after she had some coffee. And some headache pills.

* * *

When she comes back, Crowley is still asleep. Aziraphale rolls her eyes and sits on the edge of the bed, gazing down at her "enemy". He looks even more handsome now; it should be illegal to be this handsome. She has woken up with her fair share of attractive men, but she has never found herself so mesmerized by someone. She sighs. This is so messy…

She thinks of calling her fiancé and asking if he would like to go out for lunch. She knows she won't do it; James would suspect she has done something she's feeling guilty about. He won't confront her, of course, but he'll know something is up. And she doesn't want that. Besides, she hardly did anything…

She was just drinking out with her enemy. Still, it's not like she cheated or something…

She's many things, but a cheater she isn't. However, this… closeness she shares with Crowley feels a bit like cheating. Only it's worse, because they're not supposed to even like each other. And yet…

"Morning sleeping beauty" she quips, nudging him gently, in an effort to stop thinking about her ever growing attraction. Crowley groans and rolls around, his back at her. Aziraphale rolls her eyes and places the coffee cup she has brought with her on the nightstand "I'll just leave this here, then. I'm going to take a shower"

She picks up her purse and goes to the bathroom. She undresses calmly, while the water heatens and tries to clear up her mind. Everything is so confusing… She shouldn't have gone home with Crowley. She shouldn't have drink as much as she had. She shouldn't be feeling half of the things she was feeling, but…

She hears the apartment door being open. She tenses immediately. What's going on? Did Crowley lure her into a trap? Are there enemy agents standing outside, ready to abduct her?

She forces herself to calm down. She's being paranoid. If Crowley was trying to lure her into a trap, he wouldn't have gotten so drunk. Besides, the would-be-abductors would have arrived earlier. She wouldn't have been able to go out, get some coffee and come back to the apartment.

This must be an unscheduled meeting- because Crowley wouldn't have gotten so drunk if he knew he was going to have visitors the next day (or so she thinks). Still, she supposes it won't do if his bosses or associates find her here.

Sighing, Aziraphale finishes showering. She'll have to improvise. She steps out of the shower and hunts for the "disguise" she always carries on her purse. She's glad she's always prepared for emergencies, regardless of how silly is to carry around all the stuff she carries around (or so Michel says)

She starts dressing. When she's finished, she looks at herself in the mirror and smiles.

Perfect. She's unrecognizable.

* * *

Crowley is happily asleep when someone hits him with a pillow. He groans and sits up, glaring at his attacker. Then he takes notice of his surroundings and tries to suppress the feeling of dread clawing its way across his back. Hastur and Ligur are standing next to his bed, Aziraphale's and his glass are still on the night table and there's no sign of his "enemy" anywhere near.

"Ah… hi guys. Fancy meeting you here, at this ungodly hour…"

"It's 11 in the morning, Crawly" Hastur argues, making Crowley glare. He hates when they call him that, but he suspects that's the reason Hastur does it "we needed to see you"

"Ah, well…"

"We were expecting you last night" Ligur continues, his tone low and dangerous "as always, you failed to come back to the office after your meeting"

"Ah, well, the thing is…"

They're interrupted by the sound of the bathroom's door opening. Crowley glances at it apprehensively and then stares at the person standing at the threshold confusedly. Who's this woman?

"Well, sweetheart, I was beginning to worry" she says, an ironic smiling playing on her lips "I was worried I was a little too rough on you last night"

"Ah… I… what…?"

"My, my, Crowley. So this is what you were doing last night?" Hastur asks, leering at the pretty brunette standing in front of them. The woman smiles pleasantly "You could have told us. You should be more… sharing"

Crowley makes a face, thinking that the last thing he would ever do is share a female companion with his bosses but… well, some people in Hell are seriously messed up.

"That would increase my rate" the female argues amicably "So; can I have my money now, Mr. Crowley?"

"I… what?" he asks, his brain still half asleep and unable to process what's going on in his apartment.

"It'll be £300, please" she continues, still smiling.

"What?!"

"I did explain you my rates last night, Mr. Crowley"

"I don't even remember a thing"

"Not my problem you were drunk, Mr. Crowley" she argues, a playful smirk on her lips "come on, pay up"

He glares but stands up to retrieve his wallet. Hastur and Ligur are still leering at the pretty brunette, but she ignores them. Crowley offers her the money and when she tries to take it, he holds it back "For this amount of money, don't I get at least a goodbye kiss?"

Aziraphale glares at him and he smirks. Her "green" eyes sparkle with fury, but finally she concedes "Alright. One kiss"

He steps closer and places his hands around her waist. She's still glaring at him, but he doesn't feel slightly guilty. She got herself in this mess. She should have tried to find other meanings of escape, that didn't involve posing as a whore (an anyway, where did she find that disguise?)

Her lips are as soft as they look and she surprises him by the enthusiasm she puts in the kiss. She's quite skilled at it too and he finds himself carving for more. He pulls her closer and she doesn't protest. She opens her mouth and lets his tongue explore it.

It's over all too soon.

"Thank you, Mr. Crowley" she states, taking his money and placing it on her purse "gentlemen" she continues, nodding her head as she walks toward the door. Ligur and Hastur are still staring at her lasciviously, but she either doesn't notice or pretends not to.

Crowley can't really think straight.

That was one hell of a kiss.

* * *

Aziraphale hurries out of the building and walks into the first restaurant she finds. She locks herself into the restroom and proceeds to take off her disguise.

She takes of her brunette wig and runs her fingers through her short blond hair. She manages to take off her green contacts without the help of a mirror and takes off her tight fitting dress, her high heels, her push up bra and her corset.

She redresses with her big sweater and her horrendous jeans. She always feels ridiculous wearing her disguise, but she admits it's very practical. Men don't tend to look at your face when they're too busy staring at your rack.

She places a hand over her lips. That kiss… god, why did she do it? She must have been feeling suicidal or something… It's Crowley's fault, really. He should have seen the precarious situation she was in (that they were in, actually) and make it easy for her. Then again, maybe she shouldn't have asked for such high amount of money…

She smiles and looks at the bills Crowley handed her. She supposes she'll have to get him something; giving the money back just doesn't seem right. Perhaps a nice bottle of wine that they could share…

Better stop right there. She can't do this again. From now on, no more personal topics would be discussed, there'd be no more drinking and definitely no more kissing.

She just hope she'll be strong enough to fight temptation.

* * *

So… what did you think? I'm a little confused with the tenses, my English grammar has gotten worse over the years… Any mistakes you find, feel free to point them out.

Thanks for reading. Comments, anyone? Pretty please?


	8. Chapter 8

Here's a new chapter! You probably should go back to the last one, I made a small modification, because I overlooked a "small" detail. You'll understand when you read it (I think...)

Anyway, Good Omens and all characters related are property of Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman.

* * *

Chapter 8

The next meeting.

"I specifically asked for a brunette" Crowley states while Aziraphale sits in front of him. The waiter eyes her curiously while she blushes a little but quickly dismiss it. He hands them the menu and leaves them alone.

"Shut up, will you?"

"Now, now, that's not the way to address a customer. Really, sweetheart…"

"Shut up Crowley. I'm not kidding"

Crowley laughs. He figured the best approach would be to make a joke out of their last encounter. He certainly doesn't want to address the feelings their little kiss awoke in him. He doesn't want to tell her that he's been thinking about her non-stop; that he wants to kiss her again and again and again…

Alright. Better stop thinking that.

"So, will your pretty brunette friend be joining us?"

"Sorry to disappoint" she says, darkly "it's just me tonight"

They waiter is back and eying them curiously again, but when Crowley glares at him, he hurries to fill their glasses of wine and goes away "Well, never mind. I like you better anyway"

Aziraphale rolls her eyes and takes a sip of her wine. He stares at her lips; it's impossible not to. Not now, when he knows exactly how they feel against his…

Really, he needs to stop thinking like that.

He snatches her purse and Aziraphale tries to take it back, but he holds it out of her reach until she huffs, frustrated and let him have it. Crowley smirks and starts pouring its contents on the table. Aziraphale looks mildly horrified, but doesn't protest.

"How can you even carry this?" he argues, examining her items. It includes the brunette wig, along with a different tight dress and high heels shoes. A small bag contains cosmetics and her contact lenses. Another bags contains undergarments that Crowley hurries to ignore (the last thing he needs it's to start imagining Aziraphale wearing anything other than her current unappealing clothes) There are also a couple of tick books "it's darn heavy"

Aziraphale shrugs "Maybe. But I prefer to be prepared"

Crowley nods "So, does every member of Heaven carries around a full-disguise?"

"Not everyone. Although I certainly always advice my interns to" she takes another sip of her drink while Crowley places the items back into her purse "Michel thinks it's silly"

He shrugs "Complicated, maybe. But not silly" she beams at him and he looks back at her purse. He also doesn't need to become even more enthralled by the woman in front of him "Where did you learn to kiss like that?" he asks and immediately after scolds himself. He shouldn't be bringing up this topic… "I wouldn't have taken your fiancé for a good kisser" He tried to make some amends, but that's even worse…

"You'd be surprised" Aziraphale argues, a secretive smile on her lips, apparently not noticing Crowley's discomfort, nor his scowl at her comment "but it's not like he has been my only teacher" she keeps on smiling, baiting him and Crowley hates it, but he takes the bait.

"My, my, Capitan Engel. Such a naughty girl you're turning out to be"

"Hardly" she argues, leaning back on her seat "but I'm not as virginal as you seem to think" he blushes lightly but hurries to hide it. Aziraphale doesn't seem to notice "anyway, I've got something for you"

She takes a small box out of her purse that Crowley failed to notice. He arches an eyebrow, but opens it. Inside, there's a leather bracelet, with a small gold snake entwined "Wow. This looks expensive"

"A little over £300" Aziraphale responds, smirking. He rolls his eyes.

"Really, Zira… I would have settled for another kiss"

It's her turn to blush and Crowley can't help to smirk some more, even if he feels like blushing too "Well, I… I didn't know that was an option" she stammers but recovers quickly "I'll keep it mind, next time"

"There'll be a next time?"

"Who knows?" she asks, shrugging "Do your bosses make a habit of dropping unannounced at your apartment?"

So she's not opposed to the idea of spending the night at his apartment again "I'll change the locks"

Aziraphale laughs and he joins her. He puts on his new bracelet, admiring it. It certainly looks great and fits him very well "Thank you, Zira"

"You're welcome"

And that's the end of that. At least for now.

* * *

Their meeting goes well, but conversation feels a bit strained. Crowley curses himself inwardly; he has managed to ruin whatever was blossoming between them because he couldn't get a hold of his messy emotions.

He knows they were in a delicate situation and if his superiors had known who the pretty brunette in his apartment really was, they would have been in deep trouble. He should have let her go without making a fuss. But he couldn't help himself; he wanted…

All is pointless now, though. Thanks to his own stupidity, all he'll ever have from Aziraphale will be the memory of a kiss. They will continue to meet (it's part of their jobs, after all) but that's all. It's such a pity; when their reunion began he had such high hopes, especially after she gave him his gift…

Did it counted as a gift, considering she had bought it with his money?

"You'll hurt yourself if you keep thinking so hard" Aziraphale says, getting his attention back. For the last 10 minutes he has been staring (glaring, really) at his now empty plate. He feels like blushing, but forces himself not to. It's ridiculous, really. How can she have this effect on him? This isn't him! Why is he torturing himself with thoughts of things that will never be? There's no point. Sure, he likes Aziraphale, but he must realize this isn't going anywhere. Even if he hadn't ruined it all after their last meeting… "Crowley, are you okay?"

She places a hand over his and he immediately jerks away. Aziraphale looks surprised and she retreats her hand, folding it primly on her lap. He sighs "I'm sorry. I'm just… distracted"

"If you say so…" she whispers, glancing at her watch and Crowley bites down a groan. It's too early. He doesn't want to go back to the office yet (or at all) but now that they've run out of business topics to discuss, things between them are getting more and more tense.

"Leaving so soon?" he asks her, trying not to sound as desperate as he feels.

"I… I think I should" Aziraphale responds, glancing at her now empty glass of wine "but I don't want to"

The last part is a barely audible whisper and Crowley almost thinks he imagined it, but the way she's looking at him tells him it's not just wishful thinking "I… listen Zira, I'm sorry about… well, everything. I know you were just trying to save my ass and I was a total jerk"

Aziraphale huffs and shakes her head, good-naturedly "Never mind, dear. I guess we're both to blame" she pats his hand awkwardly and he hurries to grasp it before she can retreat. She looks at their entwined hands and for a while, none of them make a sound.

"Anyway, as I always say, let the bygones be bygones" she says, pulling her hand back, smiling unsurely at him and he returns the smile, even if he's still a bit unsure about where are they standing "Tell me; who were those "gentlemen" back at your apartment?"

Crowley huffs. "Gentlemen" isn't certainly the word he would use… "Hastur and Ligur Duke. They're my… well, technically, only Hastur is my boss, but Ligur feels entitled to boss me around too" he shrugs "creepy, aren't they?"

"Very" Aziraphale nods enthusiastically "From the moment I walked into the room… argh, it's just gross the way they were staring at me"

He laughs "Your own fault, really. I would have never even imagined you owned such tight fitting clothes"

"Well, it's all part of the disguise. It's not like I make a habit of wearing them on daily basis"

"Maybe you should"

Aziraphale rolls her eyes "It's very uncomfortable. I have to use a very restricting corset to fit in those dresses"

"So, your waist isn't that small?"

"Of course not! Didn't you notice?"

"When would I…?"

And suddenly he remembers. Aziraphale complaining it being too hot in his apartment and then she had taken off her sweater, before proceeding to get rid of his shirt…

He gulps. It's a very tempting image.

And they're back at things being awkward between them "You know, I think we should promise to never mention that night again" Aziraphale suggest, a soft blush tainting her cheeks. Actually, her blush expands all across her cheeks and neck and maybe even lower…

Alright, he needs to stop thinking like that.

"Yes. Right. Forget about it"

Easier said than done.

* * *

This time they don't get ridiculously drunk and Crowley doesn't offer to drive her home. Things are still a bit shaky between them and he knows better than to pressure things. Still, he can't help to feel terribly lonely after entering his apartment.

He enters his room and looks around. There are many things he doesn't remember about that night, but he knows for sure they didn't do anything. He remembers Aziraphale taking off her sweater and helping him out of his own clothes (his coordination failed him and after at least 10 attempts of unbuttoning his shirt, Aziraphale had taken pity of him and helped him) and then they just keep on drinking…

He starts undressing and as soon as he takes off his shirt, his hand goes to the old scar just below his heart. He remembers Aziraphale placing a hand over it, curious and remembers he refused to explain what had happened to him. She didn't insist. Even drunk, she was very prudent.

At some point he remembers helping each other to stand up and then collapsing on the ample bed. He remembers holding her close and that her hair smelled really nice. He remembers telling her that.

He sits down on his bed and tries to remember something more, but fails. Sighing, he lays back on the bed and stares at the ceiling. He finds himself thinking on Aziraphale on top of him, pinning him to the ground, the dagger against his neck. But it's too easy to imagine it gone and picture her leaning down, kissing him, her hands traveling across his chest…

He curses as he feels his body reacting at the image. He shouldn't be thinking about this, but the truth is he has been fantasizing about the same scenario at least twice a week. Now a new image has joined, he now remembers Aziraphale extremely pale upper body, her slightly rounded stomach and her soft-looking breasts…

"Damn" he whispers, his body reclaiming attention. He looks down at the rather impressive erection he's now sporting and sighs. He really shouldn't be doing this; he feels a little guilty about doing it, but what Aziraphale doesn't know won't hurt her (or enrage her) so he guesses it doesn't matter.

As he touches himself, he secretly hopes one day he'll be able to act these fantasies out.

* * *

So… what do you think? Writing "sex" scenes, even as "light" as this last one, always makes me a little nervous and uncomfortable (I'm very prudish, I know)… It shows, doesn't it?

Thanks for reading, let me know what you thought!


	9. Chapter 9

Here's a new chapter!

Good Omens and all characters related are property of Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman.

* * *

Chapter 9

Anniversary

She looks up from her book and arches an eyebrow. Crowley stares at her, somewhat bashfully. Still, he's smirking, so Aziraphale is not quite sure if she is imagining his embarrassment or not.

"What's that?" she asks, pointing at Crowley's offer as if she's afraid it'll bite her. To be completely honest, the present makes her more nervous than she would care to admit. Crowley rolls his eyes.

"Roses" he answers and it's her turn to roll her eyes.

"I know that" she argues, crossing her arms "what I mean is, why did you bring me flowers?"

In her experience, men only brought her flowers when they did something that they shouldn't have. But maybe she had just been dating the wrong kind of fellows. Then again, Crowley is her enemy (even if it is only for appearances' sake) and had no business bringing her flowers at all.

"I'm wounded, Zira" he says, still not taking a seat in front of her "you don't remember our anniversary?"

He's making a big fuss and they've gotten the attention of a couple of customers of the restaurant. Again, women are eying Aziraphale likes she's not worth anyone's time and staring dreamingly at the "poor" man in front of her, still holding the large roses' bouquet. Aziraphale sighs and takes the flowers "It's not our anniversary" she argues darkly.

"How can you say that?!" Damn, he has such a taste for drama. Aziraphale rolls her eyes again. True, they met a year ago, but an anniversary has other connotations, right? This is just… business.

"Whatever" she whispers "sit down, will you? Stop making a show"

"Oh, none of that, dear" he says, sarcastically, taking her hand and pulling her up although she tries to resist "get your things; we're leaving"

"What? Why?" she's immediately more alert and checking their surroundings, looking for an imminent treat, ready to fight. Crowley rolls his eyes while he takes her arm and purposefully drags her out of the restaurant "I'm taking you somewhere nicer" he says, letting go off her arm, considering just how hard she's trying to resist and all the attention they're getting because of that.

"Where?"

Crowley smirks "The Ritz, of course"

* * *

Aziraphale looks around the restaurant. She has never in her life felt more ill-dressed for an occasion than now. Everyone is using such fancy clothes… She looks down at her outfit: she's wearing a simple blouse and a pair of plain pants. It's not one of her more horrendous outfits, but still…

"I've got you a little something else" Crowley says, leaning close to her while they wait for their table to be ready and he offers her a small bag that she takes with little fuss. Inside there's a change of clothes and while normally she wouldn't be persuaded to wear something she didn't buy herself… well, she supposes she'll make an exception.

"I'll be back in a minute" she informs him, taking her purse along with her newly acquired clothing to the restroom. Once locked inside, she proceeds to inspect Crowley's gift.

It's a simple yet elegant navy-blue dress. It's fitted on the top and falls more loosely from her waist. She supposes it'll fit her well.

She considers putting on the corset she's always carrying around but decides against it. She can't eat wearing that thing. Sighing, she tries the dress on.

Curiously, it fits her perfectly. She takes a little twirl, watching her reflection on the mirror and she smiles. She looks pretty. There's also a pair of matching shoes inside the bag, with sensible heels. Once more she smiles; all in all it's a really thoughtful gift.

And that makes her feel uncomfortable. They're supposed to be, in the best of cases, business partners. They're supposed to tolerate each other. Not... not this. They're not supposed to be doing this (whatever "this" is)

She supposes they've crossed that line long ago. So it's a little silly to keep worrying. She has to be careful and get a hold of the ever growing attraction towards her counterpart, but she can handle it. It shouldn't be that hard.

She fails to notice she has been telling herself the same for the last year.

* * *

"I can't believe you're leaving this early. On our anniversary!"

Aziraphale rolls her eyes while Crowley keeps on complaining. They're outside the restaurant now, waiting for a cab to take her back to the office "I'm sorry" she says, somewhat sarcastically, but it comes through sounding really remorseful.

"Ah, don't be" Crowley sighs dramatically "You're sure you don't want me to drive you?"

"Right. Because showing up at Heaven's Headquarters with an enemy agent is the smart thing to do"

"Well… I suppose I could drop you close by. If you want to"

"No" she replies, feeling more than a little guilty for leaving so soon "It still doesn't sound like an a smart idea"

A cab finally stops in front of them and Aziraphale climbs into it "Thanks for the lunch, Crowley. And for the gifts. I'll see you around"

"Right" he says, dejectedly "see you in a month then" he closes the cab's door and walks away. Azirphale sighs. She wishes she could have stayed a while more, but Michel wants to run with her some plan and she supposes she should humor her boss. Not that it couldn't have waited till the next day but… well, maybe it's better this way. Crowley had been behaving particularly charming the whole afternoon and she's not sure what would have happened if she had agreed to accompany him to his apartment once more.

She looks down at her dress and considers changing. It'll be really unusual for her to show up at work wearing something other than pants. Besides, she always feels very self-conscious when she's wearing a dress. She's never been a very girly girl, so she feels odd. Also, she doesn't like showing off her legs. Her thighs are a little too full and her calves a little too thin and… well, she just doesn't like it.

She takes her pants out of her purse and starts wrestling her way into them. The cab's driver eyes her through the rearview mirror but promptly proceeds to ignore her and go back to driving. Once she has put on the pants, she takes off the dress and hurries to put on her blouse. It's odd to be changing inside a moving cab, but she figures it's for the best. The last thing she needs is people staring at her weirdly when she walks into Heaven.

She debates with herself whether she ought to keep the flowers or not. She supposes they will earn her a few curious stares, but she can't bring herself to get rid of them. They're so pretty and Crowley gave them to her and you don't throw away gifts…

She exits the cab once they arrive to their destination and makes her way towards her office. As she walks in front of James' office, she can see through the crystal doors him and Michel deep in discussion. Coincidentally, both look up at the same time and see her and a second later, they notice her flowers which make them frown. She smiles coyly and starts walking faster.

She walks into her office and sighs once more. She'll have some explaining to do.

"Oh, they're so pretty!"

Aziraphale turns around to find herself face to face with her newest intern. She smiles at the girl, who's staring at the roses with open curiosity "They're so perfect, Capitan Engel! Who gave them to you? Was it…?"

"Could you get me a vase for the flowers, Anathema?" she interrupts and avoids answering the girl's question. She's really not in the mood for explanations (she doesn't even know what she could say) The other female smiles and nods enthusiastically, before disappearing to fetch the vase. Aziraphale sighs once more and plops on her chair.

It's been a tiring day.

Anathema comes back, still smiling, carrying a vase. She places the roses in it carefully, smiling at Aziraphale. She smiles too and then dismisses the girl with a wave of her hand.

She likes Anathema. She's smart and enthusiastic and she could do great in Heaven. Just not on the Field Division. She knows this, she has been trying to persuade Anathema not to pursue a career in here, but the girl is quite headstrong. She's set on becoming a Field Agent.

She won't make it. The final training will break her. She remembers it all too well; the last 6 months of her training were a nightmare: being half-starved, constantly beaten, mentally abused… very few recruits made it to the end. Most quit after a week. Some made it through the 6th week. After that… some died, some lost their minds and some (a very small group) are now Heaven's Field Agents.

It's not something anyone can do.

But here she is. She has endured every trial Heaven has thrown her way. She's been captured and tortured at least 6 times. She has managed to survive and not to reveal a thing, even after long months of captivity. She always escapes and she never betrays her people.

And yet… she glances at her flowers. This is a very dangerous path she's walking and she can't help to wonder if this will be her downfall. All her work… all the strength she has always shown… all seems so pointless, so insignificant, so…

"Aziraphale"

She looks up and stares at her fiancé, standing at her office's entrance "Hi James"

He eyes her roses and she prays he won't ask. He turns his attention back at her and says "I was hoping to talk to you"

"Right" she responds, gesturing to the empty chair in front of her desk "please, take a seat"

"I can't right now" he argues "I've got lots of work. But… can you come to my place tonight?"

"I… sure. Sure, I'll be there"

"Here" he says, offering her his keys "let yourself in. I'll meet you there as soon as I can"

Aziraphale nods and watches him go. She's tired and she'd rather go home after she finishes her work, but she knows better than to deny James something. Especially when he has granted her the small mercy of not prying into her business. She sighs.

It's going to be a long night…

* * *

She arrives at James' flat somewhere around 8 o'clock. She walks into the bedroom, looking for something to change into. She's not sure she keeps a pair of pajamas here; it's not like she wears anything to bed when she stays with her fiancé, but tonight she's not in the mood for _that_, so she needs to find something to sleep in.

She finds a pair of sweatpants and a tank top and she changes. It's not exactly what she would chose for bed, but it'll work. She lays on the bed, takes out one of her books and settles for some reading.

She can't really concentrate, though. She's still thinking of her meeting with Crowley and his thoughtful gifts. She has dated quite a few men and nobody has ever been this attentive. But what's Crowley's angle? What's he trying to achieve? What's his plan?

It's nothing romantic, she's sure of that. He knows better than to pursue a woman who's not only engaged but also an enemy agent. Maybe he's just like this? Attentive, gentlemanly, sweet? Odd for an agent of Hell, she thinks, but maybe…

She decides not to worry much. She'll figure it out sooner or later.

Or so she hopes.

* * *

Aziraphale wakes up with a start to the feeling of the mattress dipping. She's up in a second, fetching her dagger from her discarded clothes and adopting a fighting stance "Took you long enough" James comments, while he continues to undress. He has sat down to take off his socks and now he stands up to take off his pants. Aziraphale drops her defensive stance and sits next to him.

"I'm getting soft at my old age" she tries to joke, laying back down.

"No, you're getting sloppy" he argues frowning "I worry about you, Aziraphale. And this mission"

"There's nothing…"

"An anniversary gift, right?"

Aziraphale doesn't answer. She doesn't have to. She's good figuring things out with little information, but James has always been better. She learned from him, after all. "Just be careful. Don't fall for his tricks"

"I won't" she sentences and he nods, before leaning in for a soft kiss. It's a very chaste kiss, the kind of kiss that won't lead to anything else and Aziraphale is glad, because now she's even less in the mood for sex "was that what you wanted to discuss?"

"No. But right now I'm a little too tired. I just… well, have you thought about setting up a date?"

"A date for what?"

"Our wedding, of course"

Aziraphale pales. They've been engaged for 7 years and now he's asking for a date? "I… no, I can't say I have"

"Well, we should" he sentences "I was thinking April is nice month"

Six months from now. She suddenly feels likes she's going to be ill "Yeah. Sounds great" he smiles softly at her and pecks her lips. She tries to smile, but she's not quite sure she succeeds. She just feels too overwhelmed.

"Sleep well love" James whispers against her ear, before settling next to her and placing an arm around her waist. Aziraphale nods absent-mindedly and closes her eyes.

She has lots of things to figure out. Problem is, she's pretty sure she won't like what she'll discover.

* * *

Long chapter, I know! Many things happening in here… LOL. What do you think? Comments, anyone? Pretty please?


	10. Chapter 10

Good Omens and all characters related are property of Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman.

* * *

Chapter 10

Marriage

Crowley walks into their usual meeting place, feeling quite cheerful. Aziraphale is at their usual table, lost in her reading. He smiles; she is wearing the shoes he had given her. The truth is that he had been a little more than worried about it being too much: the flowers, the nice restaurant, the dress, the shoes… he had also gotten her a necklace, but had decided against giving it to her in the last minute. He was afraid to spook her.

But he could tell she had enjoyed the attention. It's obvious that fiancé of hers isn't even remotely romantic. And women always like being romanced, even if they fervently denied it (and he had the slight suspicion that would be Aziraphale's case)

Still, he isn't sure what he was hoping to achieve. Regardless of how well they get along, they are technically enemies. Even if she hadn't been engaged, this couldn't lead anywhere.

Problem is, deep down, Crowley is an optimist. And that makes him ignore all the signs telling him that Aziraphale is off limits. He hopes that if he plays his cards right, he will get the girl.

Silly, right?

"What's that?" he asks, as he sits in front of her. Aziraphale looks up and he realizes she's reading a magazine. That's odd, to say at least, but when she shows him the cover… "Wedding dresses? Why are you looking at wedding dresses?"

"It should be obvious" she says, closing the magazine and placing it inside her purse "I'm getting married"

"When? How did this happen?"

Aziraphale arches an eyebrow, amused by his reaction and he knows he should be hiding better his surprise but… "April" she answers calmly "and considering I've been engaged for 7 years, I don't see how this comes as a surprise to you, Crowley"

He's lost of words. What can he say to that? "Well, you said it yourself. You've been engaged for 7 years, why now?"

Aziraphale shrugs "I'm not sure myself. But then again… it's not like I'm getting any younger"

"Please tell me he didn't actually use that argument"

Aziraphale looks away "He might have mentioned it. Not exactly like that but… he did mention if we wait much longer I won't be able to have children. Not without endangering myself and the baby"

"Do you even want to have children?" Crowley asks, feeling more than a little desperate. He needs time to figure out what he can do about his ever growing attraction for Aziraphale and five months is not enough time!

"I… well, I'm sure I can handle it"

He scoffs. She really can't think that "You're kidding, right? Of course you can handle it, but do you want to?"

Aziraphale shrugs again "I would be willing to make a compromise"

"A compromise" Crowley repeats, feeling numb. She can't be serious "You don't sound particularly thrilled about this marriage business"

"Well, to tell you the truth, I'm not. But ever since I accepted James proposal I knew this was bound to happen. So… well, I can do it"

"You can… Zira! How can you say that?" she looks at him funnily, like she can't see what's so completely wrong with what she's saying. And that's the saddest thing: that she probably doesn't see it "Marriage… is not something you "can do". Is something you should want to do. You know, when you're in love"

Aziraphale just stares at him. She shakes her head and smiles at him indulgently "For an agent of Hell, you're such a romantic Crowley"

He takes offense in that "Zira…" he starts darkly, but she interrupts him.

"Marriage has nothing to do with love, Crowley. Marriage is about alliances and power and compromises. A chance to achieve something; a necessary social function. People don't marry because they're in love. The marry because they find it necessary for their interests"

Crowley stares at her, astonished. He shakes his head "For an agent of Heaven, you're such a cynic"

"I'm realistic, Crowley. If I thought marriage had anything to do with love, I wouldn't be marrying at all"

They fall into an uncomfortable silence. He's dying to tell her she's wrong; to please stop being so cynical and can't she see she deserves much more than some sort of arranged marriage? But he stops himself. It's not his place to tell her so and it's not as if she would listen. Why would she listen to an enemy, after all?

"Well… whatever. It's your life. Do as you please"

"I will" she sentences, glaring darkly at him and he flinches. He hates when she looks at him like that "So, shall we get down to business?"

"Yes. Let's do that"

That would be far safer. And besides, he needs time to figure out how to convince her not to marry next April.

Not to her current fiancé, at least.

* * *

"Listen Zira, about earlier…" she looks at him and he hesitates. The whole meeting has been awkward, even when they've been drinking plenty of wine to make them feel looser. He's not sure what he can tell her to make her change her mind, but he's desperately trying to think of something.

"Never mind" she says, looking away once more "let's not discuss that"

He sighs. He probably should keep his thoughts to himself, but if she does marry, he's not sure what he'll do with himself and the feelings he has developed for his counterpart. It's not quite mere attraction and it's not quite love, but it has the potential to be something special and as scary as the idea is, he wants to give it a shot. He's not sure why, but he feels so happy when he's with her, so at ease, so… "Okay. Let's talk about something more cheerful"

Aziraphale nods and he's glad she's willing to stay a little longer. After all, their business meeting is technically over, so she could walk away as soon as she wished, but she stays despite probably being angry at him for trying to meddle in her personal affairs, so he guesses that's a good thing.

It shows this relationship is not one-sided, even if she doesn't feel quite the same he does "Your birthday is in a week"

"How does me getting older is a more cheerful topic?" Aziraphale argues teasingly. Crowley smiles; at least her mood is slightly improved.

"Let me treat you dinner"

She frowns "I don't think that's a good idea"

"Why?"

She toys absent-mindedly with a lock of her hair and starts chewing her lower lip and he focus his attention on her eyes. Not a good time to get distracted by how much he wishes he could kiss her "It's… complicated" he arches his eyebrows and Aziraphale sighs "Crowley, we're not… we're enemies. We shouldn't socialize outside our meetings"

"Well, you know how the saying goes; keep your friends close…"

"And your enemies closer" she laughs, shaking her head "Okay, okay, I get your point" she still looks thoughtful but finally, she smiles mischievously at him "I'll tell you what. You call me next Thursday and we'll agree where we shall meet"

"Fine" he takes out his mobile phone "Can I have your number?"

She smirks and he suddenly understands what's her game "Right. I'll call you next Thursday, then"

"I'll be waiting" she leans back on her seat. Smug, defiant, challenging. Crowley smirks.

She's never looked more desirable.

* * *

Getting Aziraphale's number will be a challenge. But he'll manage, if only to prove her that he's as good at his job as she is. Still, right now, he has more pressing matters to think of.

Well, maybe not. Thinking about her impending marriage it's not something he really wants to do, but he supposes he should try to make his peace with the idea. Despite whatever ingenious plan he might device to stop Aziraphale from getting married, there's still a very big chance she will. Maybe not in five months, but at some point.

He finds it weird all the feelings that she has managed to awake in him in so little time. A year might seem like enough time to develop said feelings, but they have just seen each other 13 times. However, there's no denying that he does care for her. He might even consider her a friend, if it wasn't for the fact that, by mere principle, Hell's agents don't have friends.

Her views on marriage and love are quite depressing and Crowley would love to prove her wrong, but he's not sure she'll let him. Even if she decides to call off her engagement, it's quite obvious she's very reluctant to the idea of them fraternizing too much. Asking for a more personal relationship might be pushing things too far. She likes him well enough, he can tell, but, is she willing to compromise her career (and probably her life) for him? Probably not.

And he shouldn't be expecting her to. He does care for her, and wants her to be happy. Then again, is it too selfish of him to wish her to be happy choosing him? Well…

A little, yes. Asking for that level of trust, of commitment, is too much. He's not in love with her (at least not yet) and maybe that's why he can entertain the idea. Because if it was love, he wouldn't be even considering it. He would know he can't ask that much from her. It wouldn't be fair.

Besides, there's also his side to consider. Hell's not known by how understanding they are. One of their agents, dating an enemy? Something they would definitely frown upon.

And of course, there's the matter of his sister. There's no question that she would use Aziraphale as a way of hurting him and things could get really ugly really quickly if his sister decides he needs to be "disciplined".

So no, he probably shouldn't be trying to prevent Aziraphale from marrying. She will be safer if she does marry, even if she won't be happy. How can she be, when she's just marrying because…?

Well, why is she? She has admitted she's not in love, what can she possibly gain from her marriage? She can climb into a better position by herself. He sincerely doubts she has any financial problems and she might not be the most gorgeous woman ever, but she's pretty enough to find more than one man willing to share her bed (Crowley himself included) So… why?

He should ask her. He will ask her. Which brings him back to his original thought.

He needs to get her number.

Time to get down to work.

* * *

So… what do you think? Everything has a explanation, I swear! So even if you are thinking the characters are a little (or a lot OOC), there's a reason! Stick with me and you'll see! LOL

Thanks for reading. Comments, opinions, critiques? Let me know!


	11. Chapter 11

Good Omens and all characters related are property of Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman.

* * *

Chapter 11

Wedding plans

Aziraphale is working on a report when her office's phone rings. She looks up, startled, since she's not used to it ringing. Very few people call her on that number; actually, very few people call her at all. And since the people who normally do call (Michel and James) are working on offices very close by, she can't imagine who'd be calling.

"Hello?" she holds the receiver far from her ear, as if she's afraid it'll explode.

"Hello to you too, Ms. Engel"

She recognizes the voice right away, but she knows better than to start calling him by his name. After all, every line in the office is being constantly monitored to make sure nobody is up to something fishy and she knows for sure that being called by an enemy agent will land her in a lot of trouble. So she takes a deep breath and responds "This isn't what I had in mind when I told you to call me on Thursday"

"Oh, you didn't specify, Ms. Engel. You just challenged me to get your phone number"

"Who gave it to you, anyway?"

"Your fiancé's secretary. Madam Tracy, I believe?"

"Why… how… when…?" she's at loss of words and she can practically see Crowley smirking at her, pleased at her confusion "why would you call my fiancé?"

"Well, for starters, his number IS listed on Heaven's internet page. Then, I guessed that I might just as well talk to him if I couldn't get you, but Madam Tracy was very accommodating…"

"Are you nuts? You were going to talk to James?"

"Of course, Ms. Engel. It's not usual for the groom to actually get involved in the wedding planning, but I figured that if you weren't going to cooperate…"

She rolls her eyes. So this is Crowley's story; he's her wedding planner? Really, the things that man comes up with… "Well, now you have my number. What now?"

"Oh, I was thinking we could meet tomorrow at this lovely bakery really close to St. James Park"

"A bakery?"

"Yes, Ms. Engel. I'm thinking that we should start by choosing the wedding cake. You seem quite fond of pastries" Aziraphale blushes lightly, placing a hand over her belly unconsciously and glares at the phone. She does have a sweet tooth, but she hates when people mention it.

"Right. Let's say… 5 o'clock?"

"Sounds perfect, Ms. Engel" she can perfectly picture Crowley's smug smirk and she rolls her eyes "See you then. Have a nice day"

And he hangs up. Aziraphale sighs, resting her elbows on the table and burying her head in her hands. Why did she accept Crowley's invitation? She's in for trouble if someone ever finds out what she's doing. Of course, she'll be careful and hopefully she'll avoid anyone discovering her, but still, she shouldn't be sneaking around. There's no reason to.

Except… well, she does like Crowley. She enjoys his company and if she's honest with herself, she craves his attention. But those are very dangerous thoughts. She tries to remind herself that he's the enemy and that this is just business, but she fails every time. She knows she should ask Michel to replace her on this mission, yet she can't bring herself to admit that this might be too much for her to handle. In part because she takes great pride on how good she's at her work and also because…

She doesn't want to stop seeing Crowley.

This is madness. This is proving she has a death wish. This is suicide. She rubs her temples, trying to ease the headache she's starting to feel. She's worrying too much. Maybe she just needs to let go. Go with the flow, see where it takes her. But that goes against all her instincts, all her training, all her principles.

She stands up and starts pacing around the office. She closes her eyes, trying to relax. She takes deep breaths and tries to convince her upset stomach that throwing up it's not a good idea. God, the stress is going to kill her!

She seriously considers not showing up the next day but as soon as she thinks it, she dismisses the idea. She can't do that. It wouldn't be polite. Not that she should care about being polite to her enemy, but…

Sighing, she collapses on her chair. She wants to go home, take a nice long bath, settle down on her bed with a cocoa mug along with a good book and pretend none of this is happening. It does sound like a nice plan; so nice in fact, that she considers going to Michel's office, proclaim she's sick and doing just that.

She glances at her half-finished report and feels a little guilty. She really shouldn't go home just yet, but she doesn't think she'll be able to concentrate anyway. However, if she leaves early today, she might not finish in time for her meeting with Crowley the next day…

Oh, what to do?

Just then, there's a knock on the door and when she looks up, she finds her fiancé standing in the doorway. Great, just what she needs "Hi James. Need something?"

It comes a little rude, she knows, but she can't bring herself to care. She's stressed and confused and he's certainly not helping to improve her mood "Madam Tracy says you found a wedding planner"

Good Lord, what did she do to deserve this? Aziraphale forces herself to smile sweetly while she prays he won't ask too many questions or ask to meet him and answers "Yes. He's quite… insistent"

James nods, even if he's staring at her suspiciously. Aziraphale tries to look calm and collected, but she's not sure she's succeeding "That's nice. I was beginning to think you had gotten cold feet"

Once more she tries to smile "Not at all. I'm just a little overwhelmed. It's a lot to plan"

"I know" he comes closer and she has to force herself not to flinch when he leans down to kiss her "I'm glad you found someone to help you" another kiss and Aziraphale is starting to feel worse. Now she's feeling stressed, confused and guilty.

She hates it.

"Do you want to come over my apartment tonight?" he asks her in a husky tone and now she's sure she's about to throw up. The guilt is eating her inside, although she's not quite sure if there's something she should be feeling guilty for. It's not like she's cheating and while she does fancy Crowley, her main concern is how her superiors might perceive her unscheduled meeting with an enemy agent, not the attraction she feels towards said enemy agent. Still…

"I'm not feeling well" she confesses, looking apologetic "I think I'll rather go home and sleep"

Her fiancé frowns "You can also do that at my place. Well, technically, it's our place"

She can't think like that. There's just something wrong with thinking of James' apartment as home, instead of the small apartment over her bookstore. "Yes, well, I… I'm not really the best company right now"

Once more he's frowning and she tries to smile reassuringly, but she's pretty sure she fails miserably "Alright. Do as you please" he kisses the top of her head and walks away "See you around, Aziraphale"

She nods and as soon as he's out of sight, she lets her head hit her desk. This is a nightmare.

And she just wants to wake up.

* * *

She doesn't sleep well on Thursday night and it shows in her general appearance. She's also a little groggy and has to fight back yawns the whole day. By 5 o'clock she's certainly not in the best mood, but that somehow changes the moment she steps into the bakery and the delicious smell of the pastries reaches her nose.

Her mood improves even more when she sees Crowley standing next to the counter, talking to the baker. He's skimming through what seems a wedding cakes' catalogue and Aziraphale rolls her eyes. He's taking his part quite seriously.

"Ah, angel! You're here!" he exclaims after seeing her and she can't help to smile as she steps closer to him "Look at this. Doesn't it look delicious?"

It does. It's a chocolate cake that looks like it could cause someone a sugar-induced coma, but it certainly looks delicious. However… "I'm not sure chocolate is a good idea"

Crowley frowns "You love chocolate"

"Well, yes, but…"

"Would you and your fiancée like to try some of your selections, Mr. Serpentone?"

Aziraphale rolls her eyes at Crowley's choice of false name and then she registers what the baker has just asked "He's not my fiancé" she assures him, glaring darkly at Crowley who's smirking at her.

"No. I'm the wedding planner"

"Oh" the baker says, blushing lightly "My apologies then, Miss…?"

"Fell" she responds, using the false name she always gives when she's not working "Angela Fell"

Crowley arches his eyebrows ironically at her and she glares at him. "Would you like to take a seat?" the baker offers, noticing the rising tension between them and Aziraphale just nods. They are lead to a small table in the back of the shop and then the baker disappears, presumably to get the cake samples.

"So, Mr. Serpentone. You really used that name when you called my fiancé?"

Crowley shrugs "It worked, didn't it?"

"Yes. But James would have seen through it right away"

He smirks "We both know he wouldn't have really talked to me. He's too important and too busy to be expected to deal with something as trivial as wedding planning. Besides, all of that could have been avoided if you had just given me your mobile phone's number"

"Oh, but where would the fun be on that?"

Crowley shakes his head, amused "Well, I've always enjoyed a good chase. Especially when there's such a lovely prize at stake"

She blushes profusely as a wave of warmness hits her whole body. She's not sure what he's implying with that statement, but it has certainly had an effect on her. She looks away, unsure of how to answer that as is quite thankful when the baker reappears, bringing with him a tray with 5 delicious looking cake slices.

She smiles as the tray is put in front of her and immediately chooses the chocolate one. Crowley smirks at her as she makes a soft moaning sound at how tasty it is "Told you. You love chocolate"

"Yes" she takes another bite and once more, she moans softly "but James hates chocolate"

"There you have it. Another reason why you shouldn't marry him"

She takes a deep breath "Crowley…"

"Right, right. We won't discuss it" he agrees quickly and she must admit she feels a little relieved. She really doesn't want to discuss her relationship with him. Not right now, at least. He takes a different cake and takes a bite, smiling at her the whole time "Maybe angel's cake, then. He'd appreciate the joke, right?"

Aziraphale glares half-heartedly at him "I'm not a fan of angel's cake"

"There's just no way of pleasing you, is there?" Crowley asks, sarcastically "How do you expect to plan a wedding when what you want won't match your fiancé's tastes?"

"I'll find a way" she shrugs, taking a piece of Crowley's cake "Weren't you supposed to buy me dinner?"

"Of course. After we're done here"

"I don't think that would be a good idea. Can't imagine eating the dessert before the actual meal"

Crowley raises his eyebrows suggestively, but she doesn't notice. Or maybe she just chooses to pretend not to notice. "Maybe we should go drinking instead"

"Sounds like a plan" Crowley agrees, taking a piece of her cake "I've got a couple of bottles of champagne in my car" as she arches her eyebrows, he adds "I thought we should go to your apartment this time. It's only fair"

Aziraphale hums, taking a bite from a third cake "Can't really argue with your logic" she makes a face as she shallows "This tastes awful"

"Cherry cake" Crowley informs her, taking a little bite for himself "not a fan, definitely" he adds, making a face too. Aziraphale laughs, taking a piece of a different cake.

"So, was your plan to get horribly drunk at my apartment the whole time?"

"Well, I was hoping you'd agree. But if not, I had a plan B which included a nice dinner, with even nicer wine and then talking your ear off till you agreed to at least accompany me to my flat"

She nods sagely "Well, I've just saved you a lot of work, haven't I?"

"Yes. How nice of you, Ms. Fell"

She rolls her eyes and keeps on eating. She's enjoying herself; she has to admit that this has been a great way to spend her birthday. Normally she wouldn't even acknowledge the date, but after these few minutes together, she can already say it's going to be a great birthday.

Too bad she's not supposed to be here at all.

* * *

"So, have you made up your mind?"

The baker stares at Aziraphale expectantly and she eyes the now empty tray, smiling "Yeah, I think so" she glances longingly at the plate that used to have the chocolate cake and finally answers "The cherry one, I think. For 100 people?"

"Of course, Ms. Fell" the baker agrees "shall I show you some designs?"

"Yes, please"

Crowley just shakes his head and once the baker is gone, he says "You hated the cherry one"

"James loves cherries"

"Do you need me to point out yet another reason why you shouldn't marry the man?"

Aziraphale rolls her eyes "I don't want to discuss it, Crowley"

He looks ready to argue, but the baker comes back and interrupts them. Afterwards, the settle in an uncomfortable silence that Aziraphale is not sure how to break "It's your life, Aziraphale" he whispers, darkly "but I really think you should re-think this whole marriage business. Why are you marrying, anyway? It's not like it'll benefit you somehow"

Aziraphale stares at the catalogue the baker has given her. She bits her lip and answers truthfully, even if she knows it's a terrible idea "I know better than to say no"

"What does that mean?"

She shakes her head, knowing she has already said too much "Never mind. Just let me choose a design and we can get started with the rest of your plan, huh?"

Crowley nods, even if it's obvious this conversation is far from over. He'll want to know what does she mean and she can't really explain. Not now, maybe not ever. There are things she´d rather not think too much about.

Funny how, even after 12 years, her past keeps haunting her.

Well, maybe not so funny.

* * *

So… what do you think? Please, please, let me know! I'm dying to hear your thoughts on the story so far!

Thanks for reading.


	12. Chapter 12

A million thanks to everyone who left a review and/or added this to their favorite/follow list. You people made my day!

Anyway, here's a new chapter.

Good Omens and all characters related are property of Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman.

* * *

Chapter 12

Wrong

Crowley wakes up with a slight headache, but not as bad as it could have been, considering how much he drank the previous night. Aziraphale had forced him to drink a glass of milk before bed and shallow some pills that she didn't explain what they were, but tasted awful. However, they seemed to have done their job.

He finds himself alone in Aziraphale's poor excuse of a bed. He's pretty sure they decided to share it because her couch was even more uncomfortable, but now there are no signs that anyone else slept with him. What would have been Aziraphale's side is cold, so either she didn't sleep at all or she left bed quite early.

The idea that she didn't sleep at all upsets him a little. However he pushes the thought aside and starts considering getting up. It's not even past dawn and he always stays in bed at least till midday. Yet, the smell of breakfast being cook convinces him to get up and go looking for Aziraphale.

He finds her in the kitchen (or what passes as a kitchen in her small apartment; really, how can she live there?) She's wearing a flannel plaid pajama; her hair is even messier than usual and yet, he can't help to think she's beautiful. The whole scene looks so charmingly domestic, that his heart aches. He finds himself wishing he could wake up to this image for the rest of his life, but he knows it's highly unlikely. Still…

"All I'm saying is that June is a perfectly sensible month…"

"We're not postponing the wedding, Aziraphale!" Crowley freezes at the sound of Aziraphale's fiancé's voice, because, as much as he hates to admit it, the idea of facing the Metraton is quite scary, especially if he finds him coming from his fiancée's room, but soon he realizes that Aziraphale's is using her phone's speaker so she can cook and talk.

"Oh, do try not to be so loud, dear" Aziraphale argues and Crowley must admit he feels a little hurt by the fact that, apparently, she uses her endearments at random "I'm just saying…"

"You're just saying you don't want to get married"

"It's not that" she argues darkly, even if Crowley suspects it's the truth "It's just that it's a lot of work…"

"Isn't that why you hired a wedding planner? He'll take care"

"I sincerely doubt it" Aziraphale says, finally noticing that Crowley is awake and sending a smile his way, which causes Crowley's insides to melt. She looks so lovely like this and he wants nothing more than to kiss her… "I think I'll find myself doing most of the work"

"Then you should hire a different one" the Metraton argues and Aziraphale rolls her eyes "you know money it's not a problem"

Aziraphale sighs and starts serving Crowley's breakfast "I'll see what I can do"

"Good" her fiancé says and Aziraphale rolls her eyes once more "Anyway, I called to warn you"

Aziraphale tenses immediately and so does Crowley. Things could get very nasty in very little time and he supposes he should be prepared to run as fast as he can. However… "Michel is planning on kidnapping you this afternoon"

Aziraphale lets out a relived breath and so does Crowley "Right. I should have known he wouldn't let my birthday go unnoticed"

"And also the rest of his brothers are in town"

"Really?" she doesn't look that thrilled about the prospect and Crowley arches his eyebrows, questioningly. She just shakes her head "Marvelous"

"I would save you, if I wasn't so busy" the Metatron states and Crowley rolls his eyes. If Aziraphale was his…

But she isn't, so no use thinking about it.

"I'll handle it" she argues calmly, proceeding to serve her own breakfast "I'll see you around, then"

"Yes. Have a nice day, Aziraphale"

"You too"

And they hang up. That's one hell of a cold goodbye, in Crowley's opinion, but he doesn't comment. It's quite obvious Aziraphale doesn't want to discuss her relationship; however, he does wonder and he worries. What does she means by "she knows better than to say no"? He hopes there's nothing too serious, but Aziraphale's wording suggests…

"How did you sleep, my dear?" she asks, taking a seat in front of him.

"Fine. Although I maintain my statement that your bed is way too uncomfortable"

Aziraphale shrugs "I suppose I'm used to it. Your bed was quite cozy, I seem to remember" she starts eating, totally missing the way he tenses at her casual mention of their last night together. He wishes he could sound as casual when discussing the night they both agreed to pretend never happened, but that somehow they always end up mentioning.

"It is" he agrees "one should have a comfortable place to sleep"

She smiles mischievously at him "There's something I've been meaning to tell you" she says and Crowley can tell she's going to ask something that he'll find deeply embarrassing, by the way her lips curl "Do you always cuddle with your bed partners?"

He almost spits out his coffee "I don't…"

"Of course you do" Aziraphale argues amicably "I've woken up with your arms wrapped around my middle both times we've shared a bed. You have a strong grip, by the way"

He blushes. He's always been a bit of a cuddler, but that's the reason he always makes a quick exit after sex (before Aziraphale, he had never shared a bed with someone he wasn't having sex with) It's embarrassing, really, and would be very bad for his reputation, although he suspects Aziraphale won't be sharing that little detail with anyone "Do you mind?" he asks, trying to keep the mood light and Aziraphale smiles at him.

"Not really. I'm just not used to it"

He finds that odd, but judging by the conversation he has just eavesdropped, he's not too surprised. As it turns out, that fiancé of hers really doesn't have a romantic bone in his body. He tells her as much and Aziraphale just rolls her eyes "Well, as you heard, I'm having visitors later, so it'll probably be a good idea you left early. I don't mean to be rude, but…"

"Yeah, I understand" he says, taking another sip of his coffee and glancing at his half-eaten breakfast. He really wishes he could stay longer… maybe even spend another night… "I was hoping to buy you that dinner I owe you"

"You don't…"

"I'll call you next Wednesday" he interrupts her, taking another bite of the perfectly cooked breakfast (deviled eggs, ironic, huh?) and getting ready to leave "Take care, angel"

"Are you going to go out dressed like that?" she asks, ironically and it's until that moment when he realizes he's wearing pajamas bottoms that are too big for him and that he doesn't remember having changed into them-

"Oh, right. I'll get changed and then I'll be off"

Aziraphale watches him go with an amused smile.

* * *

Later that day, he was feeling a little lonely and he blames that for his current situation. He's sitting in an awfully cheap bar, in the "delightful" company of his team associates, Hastur, Ligur, the Riders (meaning Scarlett and her cousins) and a bunch of other people he can't remember their names. He's seriously considering just finishing his whisky and heading back home, where he can continue to drink to the point of oblivion, while trying to forget how well his morning had started and start planning how exactly is he going to stop Aziraphale from marrying, when Scarlett stands up and announces she's bored and she's leaving.

At her words, everyone perks up (except from her cousins). Everyone knows that when Scarlett decides to leave a place, however she asks to drive her home is in for a night of wild (and slightly dangerous-for-the-health) sex. He rolls his eyes at the other guys' expectation and is quite surprised when Scarlett takes his arm and proceeds to drag him out of the bar.

He doesn't take notice of the other males looks of disappointment, nor of whatever Scarlett is babbling about. He finds himself driving towards Scarlett's apartment, too shocked to react properly. When they finally arrive at the female's place, she starts trying to drag him out of the car and that's when he finally breaks out of his stupor "I'm going home" he announces and Scarlett stares at him like he has said the silliest thing in the world and in a way, he has, because, seriously, who says no to sex with Scarlett Rider?

Apparently, now he does. Because no matter how much he stares at Scarlett perfect figure and sexy outfit, all he can think about is about Aziraphale's pajamas and how lovely she looked while she cooked breakfast. When Scarlett arches a perfect eyebrow at him, he knows there's something seriously wrong with him.

"I'm tired" he offers as an explanation, but his companion doesn't believe him. He sighs, resting his head against the wheel and Scarlett keeps staring at him expectantly. He eyes her, trying to find a good excuse to just make her leave, but he can't think of one single reason why he shouldn't take Scarlett's offer. Sure, he likes Aziraphale, but they aren't even dating (because, let's not forget, she's engaged) and yet, somehow, he feels that sleeping with Scarlett would be like cheating. Which is very silly, especially if he considers that Aziraphale is definitely going to sleep with her fiancé at some point during the weekend (no matter how much of a jerk and unromantic fellow the Metatron is, he just has to take her out to celebrate her birthday, right? And it would only natural if they end up having sex afterwards… but better not keep thinking that…)

Anyway, point is, he's not in a relationship with Aziraphale and therefore, he doesn't owe her any sort of fidelity. Now, if he follows that logic, he can totally go with Scarlett and forget for a while of his massive crush on his supposed enemy. Only it's not really a crush and he doesn't really want to forget and what he really wants to do is go looking for Aziraphale, even if he knows they will end up only talking and drinking.

But he can't do that. She's out with the frigging Archangels and it would be suicidal trying to approach her when she's with them. Then again, everything that involves getting closer to Aziraphale is suicidal…

"What's troubling you?" Scarlett asks, after a while, making him jump because he had kind of forgotten he had company "Girl's trouble?"

He rolls his eyes "I'm not talking to you about this, Scarlett. Since when do you care, anyway?"

"Oh, Crowley, don't be like that. We've been working together for over 8 years" she argues calmly "I might not be the kind of woman people go to share their troubles…"

"Because you'll probably advise them to kill someone, destroy something or both"

She smirks "Yes, probably" she agrees "doesn't mean you can't tell me what's bothering you"

"I don't want to discuss it"

Scarlett rolls her eyes and opens the door "You're sure you don't want to come up with me?" she asks, striking a pose and making sure to look as desirable as possible. Crowley considers her offer carefully and comes to the conclusion that, illogical as it may be, he doesn't want to sleep with her.

"Yes, I'm sure"

"Your loss" she says, closing the door with more force than necessary, making Crowley flinch (he hates when people aren't careful with his beloved car) and he drives away, heading towards his home, even if he's inclined to drive to SoHo (which really, is not as bad as he thought).

He's pinning for an engaged girl, who wouldn't even consider a relationship with him even if she was single.

Something is seriously wrong with him.

* * *

So, what do you think? Thanks for reading; I'm still looking for a title, so, any ideas?


	13. Chapter 13

Good Omens and all characters related are property of Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman.

* * *

Chapter 13

Night out

As much as she hates when Michel insists on dragging her out to celebrate her birthday, Aziraphale is actually thankful this time. She hopes it would provide enough distraction from her rather troubling thoughts.

But, no matter what she's doing, she finds out she can't stop thinking of Crowley. She knows she really shouldn't keep on seeing him outside their "business" meetings, but she also can't really bring herself to stop. The previous night had been so much fun; they had drunk a little wine, talked and generally enjoyed each other presence. She can't honestly remember ever having been this comfortable with someone.

Michel is babbling about one thing or another, but she's not really paying attention. She would have rather stayed home (with Crowley, if possible) and watched a movie, but Michel can't be dissuaded. He has made up his mind to take her to some bar and that's where they're heading.

They arrive at the place and Aziraphale is thankful she had decided to use the dress that Crowley gave her. She feels awkward wearing a dress, but at least she's properly dressed. It's a fancy bar in the upscale side of the city. She looks around, thinking that Crowley would love the place and promptly pushes the thought away.

She can't keep thinking like that.

They walk into the bar, Michel still talking about something and they quickly spot his brothers. Michel smiles and drags her to the table and Aziraphale smiles too, greeting the other males.

It's been a long time since she's seen the other Archangels. Raphael technically works in Heaven's Medical Facilities in London (he's the Hospital's Chief, actually), but he's almost always at the Training's Facilities, supervising. Gabriel is always out of London; he's Heaven's Speaker and has to travel constantly. As for Uriel, she technically works with him, since he's the leader of the Spy Division and always gets Aziraphale all the information she needs for her missions, but normally they just text or e-mail each other.

She does enjoy spending time with them. She lived with them for 5 years, to cry it aloud! The source of her discomfort when James informed her they were all visiting came from the fact that they are kind of her foster family. And since Michel's forte isn't really to be supportive or empathic or generally comforting, she suspects he asked his brothers to come so they can interrogate her and make sure she's fine.

Which she isn't, but she doesn't want to discuss it!

"Hello, everyone" she says and finds herself immediately hugged by Uriel, who has always been the most enthusiastic of the four brothers. She pats his back awkwardly, not sure what else to do, while he starts babbling about how much they've missed her and why does she never visit anymore?

"I… well, I've been busy…"

"Busy indeed" Gabriel agrees, hugging her once Uriel lets go "You're finally getting married"

"You neglected to inform us, Aziraphale" Raphael chides, when it's his turn to hug her.

"I've been engaged for 7 years" she argues, rolling her eyes "you knew this was bound to happen"

"No, we didn't" Raphael discus, in that tone that always makes people feel guilty "you've been engaged for 7 years, but you've never shown any interest on actually getting married. So, why now, Aziraphale?"

She glares at Michel, who's smiling at his brothers. Obviously they've been set up to interrogate her. Well, there's nothing she can do, is it? "Well, it's not like I'm getting any younger…"

"Really? That's your argument?" Gabriel asks, while gesturing their waitress to bring them more drinks.

She sighs. She really doesn't want to discuss it "James thinks it's something long overdue"

"Of course it's overdue" Michel interjects "but it's not like he made an effort to formalize your engagement ever before"

Aziraphale starts playing with a lock of her hair, unsure of what to say "James thinks it's for the best"

"But what do you think?" Raphael presses and she bits her lip, unsure of how much she's willing to reveal. She suspects James' real reason to insist on the wedding, but that's something she doesn't want to discuss with anyone.

"I don't mind" she answers finally "I mean, I always knew this would happen"

"And you sound so thrilled about it!" Uriel states sarcastically and Aziraphale is having a deja vu. It's like informing Crowley of her impending nuptials all over again. But somehow even worse.

"Listen guys, I really appreciate your concern, but…"

"We're family, Aziraphale" Raphael argues and her heart clenches; she hates when they use that argument against her. They're not really family, but they've been more caring and nurturing than her real family ever was "of course we worry about you" Raphael eyes his younger brothers and they immediately stand up, leaving him alone with Aziraphale. She sighs. She really doesn't want to be doing this.

"Raphael…"

"I know you don't want to discuss it" he interrupts her "but we must. You're like a sister to us, Aziraphale, and we want you to be happy"

That's the thing, though. They want her to be happy, not understanding that she doesn't really care for happiness. Sure, it'll be nice to be happy, but she'd rather be safe. And marrying James means exactly that; keeping her secrets safe. Of course, if she could choose, her secrets would be hers and hers only, but since she can't erase James' memory, she'll do what she has to do to guaranty his silence. And if that means marry him, look after him, have his children and do whatever he might want…

Well, so be it.

It's such a sad reality and that's why she won't voice it aloud. She won't accept anyone's pity or worse, anyone's attempt to convince her that things are not as bad as she thinks. Nobody can truly understand, unless she explains the truth.

And she'll rather die.

"I'm fine" she states, darkly, avoiding his gaze. Raphael continues staring at her, forcing her to keep from fidgeting. Finally, he sighs, patting her hand reassuringly "Ok. I'll respect your privacy"

She's thankful for his understanding. She has always found it easier to talk to Raphael; he knows what to ask and how to ask it so she won't feel threaten or judged. She supposes that comes with being the oldest brother "Thank you"

"Still, know this Aziraphale. If you need anything…"

"I know"

And she does.

* * *

The real problem isn't her impending marriage. If this had happened a year ago, she wouldn't have cared less. But now… now she has had a glimpse of something that could be love, if she would be brave enough to pursue it.

Why is it so difficult?

She opens the backdoor of her bookshop, heading towards the stairs that will lead her to the apartment. She can hear someone rummaging around the kitchen, so she takes out her dagger and advances carefully, wondering who would her mysterious visitor might be. Her heart starts beating erratically and she chides herself for even entertaining such thoughts. Crowley must be home; she told him she was going out, surely he wouldn't…

As it turns out, Crowley's not her mysterious visitor. She enters the kitchen and finds an abundant meal served on the table. She stares at the food and sighs, knowing exactly who would have done this for her "Isn't it a little late for so much food, James?" she asks, just as her fiancé appears. He smiles at her and shrugs.

"You don't have to eat it all" he argues, placing a bottle of wine on the table. He gestures for her to take a seat but Aziraphale hesitates "I made chicken picata. I know you love it"

She does. She stares at the delicious meal and once more, starts feeling slightly nauseous with guilt "I'm not hungry" she says, coming closer to him and he just watches her approach, not making a single move.

Once she steps in front of him, they continue staring at each other. She closes her eyes and wills her mind to clear. She´s still thinking about Crowley, but forces herself to focus on the man standing in front of her. This is her future. This is the man she'll marry in a few months. Nothing is going to change that.

He leans closer, their lips now practically touching and she takes one deep breath, to steady herself. She kisses him, trying hard to concentrate just on the feeling of his lips against her. After a few seconds, her whole body is tingling with excitement and she tells herself this is for the best. If this is her only future, she might as well start enjoying it.

They end up in her bedroom, their clothes discarded on the side of the bed. She thinks she might be being a little overdramatic. Spending her life with this man is not a bad thing and actually, until Crowley came along, she had never had any doubts that she'd be fine.

Her body reacts to every kiss and every caress, even if her mind is not really there. She's still thinking of her conversation with Raphael, wondering if maybe she's lying to herself. If maybe she's not marrying to keep her secrets safe, but because she wants someone who would truly understand her. Someone who knows the truth of who she is.

Someone who won't let her forget who she was.

She sinks her perfectly manicured nails in her fiancé's back as she comes and he groans in response. Sex has always been very pleasant and even if the rest of their interactions are somewhat cold, she thinks she can live with this. It'll be… enjoyable, to an extent, and she'll be fine. Maybe not happy, but really, happiness is overrated.

Or so she says to herself.

* * *

A few hours later, Aziraphale wakes up to the sound of her stomach growling. She sits up and realizes she's alone in her bed, so she stands up and heads towards the kitchen, where, unsurprisingly really, she finds her fiancé heating their dinner.

"Couldn't sleep?" she asks, coming to stand next to the table.

"I was hungry" he says, not looking at her. She stares at his back, feeling slightly uncomfortable. She rubs her arms, suddenly feeling self-conscious of her nakedness. She can't exactly pin point what it's making her feel so uneasy, but there's a certain tension on the air… Something is bothering her, but what…?

Suddenly, she asks "Why did you decided to start planning the wedding?"

He stares at her and proceeds to serve their meal without responding. Aziraphale keeps her eyes focused on him, trying to stay calm, even if she feels unnerved. Finally, he takes a seat on the other side of the table "Don't you know?" he asks, pouring himself a glass of wine.

"I have a slight suspicion"

"Then you probably know. You're suspicions are almost always correct"

"But I want to hear you saying it" she argues, trying hard to keep her cool. He studies her silently, while taking a sip of wine and finally he sighs, puts the glass down and stands up, coming closer to her.

"Because I'm trying to save you from yourself"

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath "I don't need saving"

"Oh, but you do, Aziraphale" he argues darkly, handing her something that was lying on the table and that she hadn't noticed. Aziraphale's breath catches as she sees what he's offering her.

Crowley's dark lenses.

They stare at each other in tense silence "So… it's a matter of jealousy, then" she whispers after a while, taking the glasses from him. James stares at her hardly and then grips her arm, pulling her close. She doesn't resist and she stays outwardly calm, even if her heart is beating frenetically.

"Of course not, Aziraphale" he tells her, his voice a low and menacing murmur "In fact, if you think that sleeping with him will cure you of this ridiculous infatuation, then I encourage you to do it" she glares at him, angry beyond words "but I don't think that'll work"

"You don't know what you're talking about"

"Don't I?" he lets her go and although all her instincts are telling her to back away, she holds her ground "I know you, Aziraphale. I know you better than anyone else. I know your vision of what a marriage is; I know that once we're married, you'll push those ridiculous thoughts away and focus. This is just a mission, Aziraphale. Don't delude yourself into thinking it's something else" he walks back to his seat and sits down "Now eat, you must be hungry"

She isn't, not really. If anything, she's feeling ill. However, she knows better than to back down from this unspoken confrontation, so she sits down and forces herself to eat. The meal is probably tasty, but her mouth is dry as the desert, so everything tastes like sand. Regardless, she eats everything.

Her life is about to get a hundred times more complicated.

She can't say she's surprised.

* * *

Umm… I'm really unsure about this chapter. In my original idea, the last scene actually came right when Aziraphale arrives at the apartment, but I thought this seemed more… logical? But now I'm not so sure… besides, I intended for this to be longer but… well, I think works better this way.

Thanks for reading. Opinions?


	14. Chapter 14

Here's a new chapter! Thanks a million for the guest review, too!

Good Omens and all characters related are property of Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman.

* * *

Chapter 14

Discoveries

It's Tuesday night and Crowley is wondering why did he tell Aziraphale he would call her on Wednesday. It seemed perfectly logical back then, but now he can't remember why he didn't say he would call sooner. He considers just dialing her number and see if she's still at the office, but he forces himself not to.

He doesn't want to look too desperate.

But he's desperate. He wants to see her, talk to her, be with her. He misses her greatly and isn't that just silly? For the last year, they saw each other once a month and now, it hasn't even been a week and he's aching to see her again.

How pathetic.

He's sitting in a small office, sipping some rather bland coffee. He glances at his watch and wonders how much longer will he have to stay. If he had a choice, he would have headed back to his apartment hours ago, but when Hastur and Ligur had insisted on him driving them to their current location… well, technically, Crowley couldn't have say "no".

Well, he could. But that wouldn't have ended up pleasantly.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, darling" the door opens and a woman enters. She's on her mid-fifties, but she's still quite beautiful. Besides, she holds herself with such grace and elegance, that it's impossible not to think of her as beautiful.

"Never mind, Madam Black"

Madam Black is the sole owner of one of London's most prestigious brothels. Of course, prostitution is technically against the law, but many things escape the police's eyes, especially when Heaven or Hell has especial interest on them.

The place is very close to Hell's Headquarters, hosted in what was once a fancy hotel. Madam Black bought the place almost thirty years ago and since then, the place popularity has grown. Many of Hell's higher-ups favor the place, including Crowley's current boss, Hastur Duke and, of course, his brother Ligur.

Crowley doesn't particularly care for the place. He has never had the need to hire a prostitute, really. He prefers the actual thrill of seducing someone; although that's not something he has been doing lately. The memory of his last encounter with Scarlett is still clearly imprinted in his memory and the revelations it raised are still troubling him.

But since his boss does like the place, he has visited it more than a few times. The first time, Madam Black tried to convince him to hire one of her girls, but Crowley politely (or as politely as he could) had declined. Afterwards, she just invited him to her office for some coffee and pastries.

She's an interesting woman, full of amusing anecdotes and Crowley honestly enjoys talking to her. Waiting for Hastur and Ligur to finish their business is nowhere near as boring as it could be thanks to her and so, Crowley doesn't complain much when they insist on him driving them to the brothel.

"Now, what was I saying?" Madam Black asks, taking a seat in front of him, pouring some coffee for her, but before Crowley can answer, the door opens once more.

He half-turns to face their new visitor and for a second, he's out of breath, thinking he has recognized the newcomer. But when the girl steps closer, he realizes that he's in fact, imagining things. She's almost Aziraphale's height, with messy blond hair and blue eyes, but they're the wrong shade of blue. Besides, she's slightly thinner than Aziraphale (not much, though. Certainly not as fit as most girls in the place)

Realizing the newcomer isn't Aziraphale does nothing for the longing the image of the girl has inspired in him.

"Sorry to interrupt, Madam Black" she whispers, coming closer to the woman's desk. Her voice is slightly deeper than Aziraphale, but it's still quite pleasant. Crowley can't help to shiver a little.

"Never mind, darling" the woman says and receives the envelope the girl has brought with her. She opens it and counts the money inside. She frowns a little, but then shrugs "Thank you, Judith"

The girl nods and walks away. Before she can leave, though, Crowley speaks "She's new?"

"Yes" Madam Black answer, gesturing the girl to stay where she is.

Crowley stares at the girl and ponders his options. He already knows he can't sleep with a woman without feeling like he's betraying Aziraphale. He also knows that it's quite a silly notion. And he also knows he's never going to sleep with Aziraphale, so maybe…

"Do you mind…?" he asks and Madam Black smiles.

"Of course not, darling. Judith, take care of Mr. Crowley"

The girl (Judith, apparently) nods and takes Crowley's hand, dragging him towards one of the empty rooms. Once inside, she locks the room and smiles at him coyly "Anything in particular that you'd like?"

One of the main reasons the place is so popular is because the girls are open to mostly any particular kink their clients might have. However, Crowley thinks he's quite standard in that aspect "Nothing much. Although…" he hesitates and the girl smiles encouragingly at him "would you mind if I called you by another name?"

She looks surprised at his question, but quickly smooths her expression and shakes her head "Whatever you wish" she tells him and gestures for him to lie on the bed. Crowley obeys, even if he's feeling more than a little nervous. She proceeds to undress herself and Crowley thinks that the size of her breasts is also wrong (Aziraphale's are smaller) but quickly dismisses the thought. He really shouldn't keep on doing comparisons.

The girl climbs on top of him and starts kissing him softly. It's been a while since he kissed Aziraphale, but the memory of that one and only kiss still haunts him. Judith's kiss is slightly sloppier, but is close enough for him to delude himself.

Soon enough, he manages to delude himself into thinking the woman he's with is the woman he has been fantasizing for quite a while. He kisses her passionately as he struggles to take off his clothes and a few minutes later, he flips her over so he can be on top.

It doesn't last long and he's not surprised when he calls his "enemy's" name when he comes (well, actually, all he manages is a broken "Zira") He rolls over and stares at the ceiling, starting to feel a little remorseful but he shakes himself off his guilt trip.

He owns Aziraphale nothing.

* * *

All in all, he spends a pleasant night in Judith's company, so he tips the girl generously and leaves the place feeling slightly more cheerful. Hastur and Ligur are nursing an awful headache, so he drops them at their apartment and heads home, already in a better mood and happy that he can finally go ahead and call Aziraphale. It might be slightly too early, but he doesn't care.

He has waited enough.

So he calls. The phone rings six times before someone picks up "Yes?" the voice on the other side of the line says and Crowley can feel himself smiling. Ridiculous, really, how just hearing her voice makes him react.

"So, I was wondering if you would prefer a wedding location in the city or would you prefer a country location?" he says, thinking of a couple of places he has already researched as wedding locations (he's a professional, after all, and knows that the key to a good performance is to be accurately informed)

There's a long pause on the other side. Crowley immediately tenses, worrying for Aziraphale. He hears her sigh and then she says "Met me at the Ritz at 2 o'clock?"

"Alright" he readily agrees, an unpleasant shiver running across his spine "See you in a while, then"

Aziraphale hangs up right away and he can't shake off the feeling of something being deeply, fundamentally wrong. Now he's worried and has beginning to regret having called.

Too late for regrets, though.

* * *

He arrives five minutes earlier and waits anxiously, minutes feeling like hours. Finally, he sees Aziraphale arrive, accompanied by a younger woman. They're talking animatedly between them and when Aziraphale spots him, she smiles softly.

However, regardless of her dashing smile that makes his insides melt, he can't help to notice how awful she looks. She has dark circles underneath her eyes and she looks very pale. She approaches the table and asks the waiter for an extra chair "Afternoon, Mr. Serpentone. This is Anathema Device, one of my interns"

"Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Device" he says, sending a questioningly glance in Aziraphale's direction (which she ignores) and shaking the girl's hand.

"The pleasure is mine, Mr. Serpentone" the young woman says, taking a seat directly next to Crowley. He tries to act relaxed, but he's deeply troubled by the uninvited guest. He has the feeling that Aziraphale needs to tell him something important, but he can't phantom why she brought company then.

"Answering your previous question" Aziraphale says, taking a long sip from her wine "We'd preferred a location in the city"

He stares at her confusedly for a couple of seconds, but quickly recovers "Right. Well, there's this lovely place in Mayfair…" Aziraphale arches one perfect eyebrow and Crowley can't help to smirk a little "Really nice. Very exclusive. We can see it tomorrow, if you'd like"

"Does tomorrow work for you, Anathema?" she asks the other female and she nods. Crowley frowns but none of the women pay him any mind. This is getting more and more confusing.

"Of course, Capitan Engel. Whenever you say"

Aziraphale purses her lips but catching Crowley's eye, she hurries to smile charmingly once more. He can't help to notice her smile doesn't quite reach her eyes "So, should be met there?"

"Yes, that would be agreeable" Aziraphale responds and he can't help to notice how stressed out she seems. Her whole body is so tense that all her muscles must be aching. He wants to say something reassuring, he really does, but he doesn't think it's a good idea with their present company "What's the address?"

"North Audley Street. Let's say… 1 o'clock?"

"3 o'clock. I'm having lunch with James" She looks even tenser after that but Crowley can't really question her without raising suspicions. He's trying to figure out how to get rid of their unwanted companion, when a phone rings and Anathema checks hers. She smiles and blushes and sends Aziraphale a pleading glance, and she just rolls her eyes good-naturedly and gestures for her to answer. The girl stands up and heads outside to take her call.

"What the hell, Aziraphale?!" he exclaims, once Anathema is out of hearing distance and Aziraphale huffs.

"Keep your voice down" she counters darkly and takes something out of her purse, then throws it to Crowley. He stares at her wonderingly, but she just glares at him.

"I was wondering where I had left them" he finally says, taking his sunglasses and placing them carefully inside his shirt's pocket "thank you"

"James found them" she informs him, taking another long sip of her glass of wine.

"Oh" What's he supposed to say to that? What does that mean? Does he know they're seeing each other outside their business meetings? Does he suspects of Aziraphale's loyalty? Towards whom? To him, to Heaven? What does this mean?! "So, he sent you with a chaperone?"

"Yes, exactly" she continues angrily "I'm lucky that he just sent Anathema to babysit me today. I tried to keep this meeting secret, but of course he found out and then I was almost sure he was going to send Uriel to keep an eye on me and I just… God, this is awful!"

She buries her head in her arms and Crowley is not sure what he can do to make her feel better. He tries patting her back but Aziraphale fixes him a glare so full of anger that he stops moving.

He would stop breathing, if he could.

"So, what do we do now?"

"Now you're going to help me plan a wedding" she whispers darkly and hotly and it's a totally unappropriated response, Crowley knows, but he can't help to feel turned on by her dangerous tone "You're going to be exactly what you're pretending to be and if we're really lucky, we'll convince Anathema than you're nothing more than a wedding planner, so that when James asks her she tells him exactly that"

"What exactly does he think it's happening?" he asks, partly curious and partly very worried.

"I'm not sure" she confesses, rubbing her temples "He knows you've been to my apartment, but he doesn't know when, so I suppose he thinks that our meetings are ending much more later than I report, but… I'm not sure" she sighs, shaking her head "It's been a very tiring week"

"I can imagine" he whispers and she looks at him, almost says something, when Anathema reappears.

"Sorry" the younger female says, reassuming her previous seat and Crowley notices how close he had leaned towards Aziraphale during their "discussion" so he sits up straighter.

"Never mind, dear" Aziraphale says, looking more composed than she did when she arrived. She smiles tiredly at Crowley and adds "So, you were telling me about this lovely place in Mayfair"

He stares at her for a couple of seconds. Things are getting awfully complicated between them. The sane thing to do would be stop this nonsense and go back to just doing business. But he's far too gone for that. It's the safest, wisest thing to do, but he knows none of them really wants that. Crazy as it seems, they want to continue with this.

What does that say about them?

* * *

So… what do you think? I believe I got myself into a bit of a mess, because I'm not exactly sure how to handle last chapter's revelations… I mean, I'm just not sure if this makes sense anymore… Well, I guess I'll have to work extra hard on the next chapter…

As always, thanks for reading. I thought of a title, but I'm not sure yet. I'm thinking "Barely breathing" would work wonderfully. Listen to the song and you'll see why I think it's rather perfect, but… oh, I'm not sure if it's a good title for the fic…


	15. Chapter 15

I think I made a mistake with the ending of chapter 13 and its consequences. I'm really not quite sure how to write this chapter…

Good Omens and all characters related are property of Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman.

* * *

Chapter 15

Suicidal

Aziraphale knows that this is very risky. If someone ever finds out about this, she'll be in deep trouble. With James or with Heaven or maybe even both. However, what's really frightening is the fact that she doesn't really give a damn about that.

She's worried, but for other reasons.

She takes a deep breath and starts walking faster. She's very close to her destination and now it's not the time for regrets. She'd already made a decision and there's no point in changing her mind. Going back would be far more complicated.

She walks into the apartment complex and hurries up the stairs. She really doesn't want to stand still waiting for the elevator, because she's afraid she'll lose her courage. She wants to do this, but she'd be lying if she said she's not scared.

She's finally standing outside Crowley's apartment and she knocks. She hopes he'll hurry to open up, because otherwise she might run. She starts biting her nails and scowls when she notices she's ruining her manicure. Damn. This last week has been awful for her nails.

The door opens and Crowley looks surprised at seeing her. She tries to smile reassuringly, but it comes out as a painful grimace and he gestures for her to come in. They don't talk; she just walks in and sits on his comfortable couch. Crowley heads towards the kitchen and comes back holding two whisky glasses, filled to the rim.

"Thanks" she says, almost finishing her drink in one go. Crowley just nods and places the other glass in front of her. He sits on the other side of the couch and waits for her to finish her first glass. The alcohol does help her to relax a little, but not much. There are hundreds of things she wants to tell him, but she's not sure where to start.

"I wasn't expecting to see you till tomorrow" he tells her, watching her closely "Are you sure it's a good idea, with your paranoid fiancé?"

"I'm sure it's a terrible idea" she responds, taking another sip of her drink.

"How did you even manage to…?"

"James had a meeting" she interrupts him "So I figured I could come and visit you"

"So you just… walked here?"

She scoffs "Don't be ridiculous. I'm no fool; I sneaked out of my apartment and… well, you can see the precautions I took" she says, gesturing at her outfit (an old tracksuit and a long black wig). Not her best disguise, for sure, but good enough.

The fall into an uncomfortable silence, none of them too sure of what to say. Aziraphale takes off her wig and runs her fingers through her hair, massaging her scalp. She really hates wearing those things.

"So… Trouble in paradise, huh?" he asks, as the silence stretches uncomfortable between them. Aziraphale snorts, because that's an understatement.

"I'm in hell" she informs him and he smirks at her phrasing. She closes her eyes and takes deep breaths, trying to get her emotions under control. If she doesn't, she'll start crying and that's definitely a no-no. Besides, she's not sure why would she be crying. Frustration? Anger? Sadness? Longing?

"It's okay" Crowley whispers, sliding closer to her "I'm here" and pats her knee awkwardly. He sucks at being comforting, but she's thankful for his presence and his attempts to make her feel better.

Is it odd that she finds reassurance in the man that's supposed to be her enemy? Is it wrong that she searches refuge from her own people in his apartment? Is it such a terrible thing that she has risked James' and Heaven's ire by coming here just to talk?

"God, what am I doing?" she suddenly asks herself, standing up and pacing around the living room "I shouldn't be here"

"Aziraphale…" Crowley has stood up and is now behind her, his mere closeness infinitely soothing "relax" he whispers, placing his hands on her shoulders and massaging gently "you're under a lot of pressure"

She is. But she can handle pressure. What she can't handle is feelings. She's feeling too much. She wants her emotions to stop being so freakily troublesome. She wants to go back to the time when she didn't have so many conflicting emotions inside her.

She shouldn't be here. Crowley is the whole reason why she's feeling all she's feeling, but ironically, she only finds calm in his presence. He makes her feel like no one and nothing else has ever before. It's dangerous and it's stupid, but she wants to be here.

She turns around to face him and her heart starts beating erratically. As their eyes lock, warmness starts spreading across her limbs. She's pretty sure that if she kissed him, he would let her. If she pushed him towards his room, he would let her do whatever she pleased. The hunger reflected in his eyes is unmistakable and it's the same hunger that it's consuming her, but she knows that if she gives in, she'll be lost.

James is right. Sleeping with Crowley won't cure her of her infatuation because this is something deeper than that. Desire burns up quickly and a night of passion would probably be enough to bury it. But this… this would feed on every kiss and on every caress and soon enough, there would be no way to contain it.

And still, she wants to do it.

She takes a step back, breaking eye contact "I'm tired" she says "I just… I wanted to talk to you without anyone else in the middle. But this is probably a bad idea"

"Maybe… maybe you should hire an actual wedding planner" he tells her, taking a step back too. She smiles sadly at that.

"It would probably be for the best"

They stay in silence for a while and she picks up the other glass of whisky "What are we doing, Crowley?" she asks him, staring at her beverage as if contained all the answers of the world.

"I don't know" he says as he sits down once more "we really should stop"

Aziraphale sits down and sighs. She should head back home, but she's not sure how to do that. Sneaking into her place would be far more trouble that sneaking out, especially since it's getting late. But if she's right and James is having her followed and nobody sees her leaving her apartment the next morning… Then again, if someone sees her coming in…

God, why did she let her life become this mess?

"So…this is it?"

Crowley stares at her for a while, not making a single sound. Aziraphale sighs once more and drinks her whiskey "Right. I'll be going then"

"Don't" he says, his voice merely a whisper but she freezes anyway "I… I don't want this to stop" he sighs and stands up, heading towards the kitchen, probably to get some whiskey for himself "I don't even know what "this" is" he adds and Aziraphale glances at the door, wondering if she should run. It might be the wise thing to do, but…

"We should stop" she argues once he's back "but I don't want to, either"

The problem is that none of them really know what are they doing "Then we'll work it out" Crowley says "We'll stick to your plan" he comes closer and kneels in front of her seat "I'll be the best wedding planner you could ask for"

Aziraphale laughs at that, but she soon sobers up when she feels his finger tracing circles on her knee. A delicious shiver runs across her back and she's very tempted to test the theory that sleeping with Crowley would make all these feelings stop. But she knows she's being foolish, so she stops that line of thought right away.

"Okay. We'll make it work" why is she making these promises? There's no point. They're not… they're not even friends, for Someone's sake! They're something like coworkers, but that's all. They should keep a professional relationship but…

He smiles at her and sits back on the couch. He has brought back with him the whisky's bottle and pours her another drink. She shouldn't drink much, because she has to go back home and she has to work the next morning but…

Here's another thing she's not supposed to be doing.

Who's counting, anyway?

* * *

When her phone rings the next morning, she groans. She came back to her apartment sometime around 2 o'clock, quite drunk and awfully tired. She's not sure how she managed it, but she sneaked into her place with little effort. Or maybe with a lot of effort, she can't honestly say she remembers.

She rolls on her side and tries to ignore the incessant beeping of the blasted phone. It's not use, though, however is calling is dead set on talking to her. So she finally stands up to retrieve her mobile and answers gruffly "Yes?"

"Rough night?" she recognizes the voice, although she must admit she's surprised he's calling.

"What's up, Uriel?" she asks, immediately more alert, worrying that something has happened.

"That's exactly what I'm trying to figure out" he says and before she starts panicking, he continues "You know you're being followed?"

"Yes" she responds, sitting down and taking long and deep breath, trying to calm her frenetically beating heart.

"Hmph. I hoped so" he states, sounding slightly annoyed "I'm having a serious talk with whomever trains the surveillance recruits these days. They're very bad at it"

Aziraphale laughs. Trust Uriel to focus on the lack of abilities of the surveillance people instead of the fact that she's being followed "I'm serious, Aziraphale" he tells her "I mean, they didn't notice you leaving or you coming back and you made an awful lot of noise when you came back"

Her laughter dies at his statement. He knows? He followed her? "I…"

"Whatever you were doing, is your business" Uriel interrupts her "I'm just saying you shouldn't be so sloppy. You're lucky that the Metatron- oh, right, I'm sorry, _James-_ didn't ask for my help on this, because you'd be seriously screwed"

"I think he knows better than to ask my foster brothers for help when it concerns me"

Uriel chuckles lightly "Right. So, are you okay? Should I ask Michel to keep an eye on you?"

"No. I don't want any more eyes on me" she says, rolling her eyes "There's nothing to worry about"

"If you say so… Just be careful, Zira. If _James_ is having one of his jealousy fits, then that's quite alright" she can hear the mocking on his tone, but she doesn't comment. She would point out that he throws jealousy fits every time his girlfriend doesn't call, but she doesn't. She's not in the mood for teasing and besides, he's sparing her a lot of awkward questions "however, if there's something else…"

"Don't worry your pretty head about it, Uriel" she argues, having decided not to hand much information rewarding her situation "And please, don't tell your brothers"

There's a pause on the other side of the line and Aziraphale sighs "You've already told them"

"Just Raphael. He wanted to know why I was out late"

She sighs once more. It's not ideal, but she can work with this "Okay. Don't tell the rest then"

Not that it would make much difference.

* * *

Regardless of her slightly worrisome early morning call, Aziraphale is in a better mood. She spent a good part of the evening at Crowley's place and after their awkward conversation, they had had a wonderful time; talking, drinking and generally goofing around, pretending everything was alright. Of course now she is hung over, her head feels like it is about to explode and her eyes are blood shot, but none of that matters much.

She is happier than she had been in the last week.

And it shows.

Everyone in Heaven seemed to know about the rising tension between her and her fiancé and therefore everyone tried to avoid them as much as possible. For the last week, people had been hurrying away whenever Aziraphale came anywhere close to them but now everybody can see the enthusiasm she exuded. It's ridiculous, really, because her problems are far from over, but after last night visit to Crowley's, she is positive that nothing can bring her down.

Her relationship with her enemy is risky, dangerous, insane, troublesome, completely suicidal.

And it will just continue getting stronger.

* * *

I'm not sure if this chapter makes much sense… thoughts, anyone? Pretty please?

Thanks for reading! Please comment!


	16. Chapter 16

So… here's a new chapter. I apologize for the delay; I really struggled to write this chapter. I knew where I wanted it to go, I just didn't know how…

Thanks to my guest reviewer.

Good Omens and all characters related are property of Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman.

* * *

Chapter 16

Lucky

"Who's she talking to, anyway?" Crowley asks, after a while of listening to Anathema's endless giggles. She and Aziraphale arrived at One Mayfair at 3 o'clock sharp and a few minutes later, the girl got a call and she has been talking to someone for the last 30 minutes, constantly giggling and getting on his nerves.

Aziraphale smiles enigmatically "If my calculations are correct… then she's talking to a trainee in the Spy Division. Newton Pulsifer, I think"

"If your calculations are correct?"

She offers him a coy smile that makes Crowley even more curious "Aren't you glad we get to talk without interference?"

"Of course" he responds "it's just… does she have to giggle that much?"

Aziraphale shakes her head good-naturedly "Ah, young love. Such a funny thing"

"I thought your vision on love was quite cynic. Or is it just when it's your own love life we're discussing?"

She frowns "I don't have a love life, Crowley. I just have a fiancé"

"Right" he agrees and sensing the darkening in Aziraphale's mood, he decides to change topics "so; are you having a religious wedding? Have you thought of a church or should I…?" maybe it's not exactly a change of topic, after all, but it's a safer thing to discuss anyway.

"No. No religious ceremony" and her tone is so final and dark, that Crowley thinks it was the wrong thing to ask. He sighs. This isn't easy for him and Aziraphale isn't making it any easier. Then again, planning the wedding of the woman you're more than a little attracted to is definitely no piece of cake…

"I'm sorry" she whispers "I just… lunch didn't go that well"

"Ah"

They continue walking in silence, looking at the place's gardens. It's quite nice and the perfect setting for a wedding, Crowley thinks, and Aziraphale probably agrees, but it's obvious she's not very enthusiastic about the whole deal. It's hard to be, he supposes, when you're not really looking forward to the wedding at all.

"So, care to explain about your calculations being right?"

This does seem to lighten the mood and Aziraphale smiles once more "Well, a week ago, after my discussion with James, I figured I was going to end up with a chaperone. And I guessed that if Anathema ended as it, I might as well be prepared" her smile turns into a smirk and Crowley forces himself to look away, before he does something stupid "I had noticed Anathema paid a little too much attention to a certain recruit on the Spy Division, so I just asked Uriel for some random information and asked him to send Newt over… and then I asked Anathema to check on the info for me and well… they hit it off right away"

"Wow. You're a regular evil master mind, huh?"

Aziraphale laughs "I try" she stops and Crowley finally notices the giggling has stopped a while ago. Apparently, they had managed to lose their chaperone "It worked, didn't it?"

"It's a little over complicated for my tastes… but yes, I guess it worked" suddenly, something occurs him "you planned that on advance"

"Yes. Why…?"

"Which means you were always planning on keep on meeting with me. So last night conversation…"

Aziraphale looks anguished for a couple of seconds and then she shrugs "I knew I wanted to keep on seeing you. So I took some provisions"

His heart makes a little loop and Crowley groans internally. She just has to say something like that and feed that stupid hope inside him. He knows this isn't leading them anywhere and yet, he keeps on hoping…

"So, what do you think?"

They both turn to face the woman that's supposed to be showing them around, although they managed to stay a little behind her without her noticing for most of the tour. Aziraphale takes one last look at her surroundings and nods "It's a beautiful place" she closes her eyes for a couple of seconds and she looks so lost and so broken, that Crowley wants to take her into his arms and console her "We'll book it" she says after a couple of seconds, determined, all her previous distress impossible to discern In her now calm façade "April 26th"

"Of course, Ms. Fell" the woman says "This way, please" she says, gesturing towards the office.

Aziraphale follows right away and Crowley watches her go. He wants to stop her. He wants to beg her to stop this wedding. But he knows it's futile, so he just closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and follows them.

* * *

They sit in the office in tense silence. Anathema is standing outside the room, still talking on the phone (seriously, what can they possibly be talking about?), while Mandy (that's the woman who showed them the place) is filling some over complicated format about the number of guests, food and drink preferences, music choices and some other stuff. Aziraphale answers patiently all of her questions, her gaze fixed on the small window next to her and Crowley just sits there and listens feeling deeply uncomfortable.

"Full names of the groom and the bride" Mandy asks, still typing hurriedly.

"James Good. And Aziraphale Engel" Mandy stares at Aziraphale surprised after she revels her name, but of course, she doesn't even notice, busy as she is staring through the window. Mandy looks at him, as if she's expecting him to be as surprised as she is and he supposes it's understandable, considering he introduced his "client" as Angela Fell. He shrugs.

"You're one lucky lady Ms. Engel" Mandy comments, her attention back to the form she's filling "a man like that… very lucky indeed"

Crowley frowns. The Metatron is the lucky one, getting himself a woman like Aziraphale. He would say as much, if it wasn't for Aziraphale speaking before he could "Yes, I am" she whispers solemnly, exchanging a quick glance with Crowley.

He stands up, unable to stomach that. He wonders if she believes that and he hopes that she doesn't. He makes a hasty exit, uncaring about the women's reaction to him leaving. He just can't handle that.

He just can't.

* * *

"Crowley. Crowley. CROWLEY"

"Huh?" he looks up from his computer, startled. Scarlett takes a seat on top of his desk, a smirk on her lips and he tries to look like he's actually working, not moping about the engaged girl that he's helping to plan her wedding.

God, he's so pathetic.

"Hey Scarlett. What's up?" he's not particularly close to any of his work partners, but he likes Scarlett well enough. She's a little crazy and with a blood lust that can't possibly be healthy, but she's still nicer than most people in Hell.

Which tells us an awful lot about Crowley's other associates, right?

"I'm bored" she announces, swinging her legs to the other side of his desk, so now she's facing him. Crowley gulps and rolls his chair a little away from her, while crossing his legs, which just makes Scarlett's smirk wider.

"Right. So…?"

"So I decided to come and see what my favorite coworker is doing" she says, still smirking and Crowley gulps once more. He really doesn't like Scarlett´s expression at all.

"Ok… Well, I'm kinda busy right now, so…"

"Oh, please" she huffs, sliding into his lap, forcing him to uncross his legs and making him feel more on edge. He knows this isn't a friendly visit, but he just wishes Scarlett would get down to the point "I know you've finished with your reports early. I saw you handing them to Ligur"

"Well, yes, but that's not all I have to…"

"Crowley, come on. Humor me"

He sighs dramatically "I'm not getting rid of you, am I?"

Scarlett smiles, placing a hand over his shoulder and the other on the nape of his neck. Crowley forces himself to stay calm, even if all his instincts are screaming for him to stand up and run as fast and far as he can "All right. What do you propose we do?"

"Well" Scarlett says, running a finger across his cheek, sending unpleasant shivers down his spine, making him even more wary "Let's talk about your mysterious girl"

Crowley freezes. He tries to relax and keep his breath even, but he knows he won't succeed. Maybe Scarlett is just bluffing; maybe she just wanted to see his reaction, but, what if she actually knows something? "What are you talking about?"

"Don't play coy, Crowley. Dark hair, somewhat short, was wearing an old tracksuit last night?"

She saw her. Well, at least Aziraphale was wearing that awful wig of hers but… "There's nothing to tell"

"Oh, come on. You're not convincing me it was some random one night stand" she presses closer to him and normally that would be a problem because, hey, he's a guy, but right now his libido seems to have been overpowered by all the angst he's feeling "You didn't drive her home, but I could tell that's because you didn't even wanted her to go"

In all truthfulness, he hadn't driven her home because her paranoid fiancé was having someone keeping an eye on her (although whoever was doing it, was doing a very bad job at it) but Scarlett does have a point. He didn't want her to go.

"You also turned down sex with me. So I'm guessing it's pretty serious"

Crowley groans. He really doesn't want to discuss it, especially not with any of his coworkers who wouldn't hesitate to use any information against him. Scarlett laughs merrily "Come on. You know I'm not going to stop pestering you until you tell me"

That's also true. And he knows just how bothersome Scarlett can be "It's not serious" he tells her, if only to get her off his back "she's… married" or soon to be. It doesn't really matter. It makes no difference at all.

"Ah… is that why you're so mopey?"

"I'm not…" he starts protesting, but then he rethinks his statement. She's right, of course. He's quite depressed, especially after Aziraphale's commentary… "Never mind"

"Ah, poor Crowley. Someone broke his heart" Scarlett laughs merrily "so what, she was visiting last night to tell you it was over?"

Quite the contrary. Even if it's not exactly in the way Scarlett means it "Something like that" something occurs him then "Are you following me?"

Scarlett snorts "Don't be ridiculous Crowley; I got better things to do with my time than follow you around. I just… happened to be in the neighborhood" her dark smirk tells him he really doesn't want to know what was she up to "Anyway, buck up. A handsome man like yourself will find someone else soon enough" she winks at him and leans closer, her lips hovering over his. Crowley rolls his eyes, which makes her laugh again.

Someone clears his throat behind them "Am I interrupting something?" Ligur asks, staring at Crowley enviously.

"Of course not" he argues, shoving Scarlett off and she pouts mockingly "What's up?"

"Someone drop this for you" Ligur says, handing him an envelope. It's sealed, his name written on the front. He stares at it suspiciously and soon realizes his companions are waiting for him to open it. Rolling his eyes, he complies.

Written on the envelope, in Aziraphale's careful calligraphy reads "_I'm sorry?"_ the question mark letting him know she doesn't quite understand why he stormed out earlier. He sighs and proceeds to inspect the envelope's contents.

Two tickets and an invitation to Heaven's Charity Ball.

The biggest event in the city, organized annually in Heaven's Headquarters. Only the richest and the most famous get invited and technically, all those who go are Heaven's Supporters. But of course, that not always true.

"Wow" Scarlett says, picking up one of the tickets "you didn't mention she was loaded. Or in Heaven's good-doers list"

"Her husband is" Crowley says absent mindedly, wondering what exactly Aziraphale expects him to do with this. It's a strange apology, to say at least. She's giving him access to an exclusive event and if someone ever finds out…

There'll be hell to pay.

"Can I come with you?" Scarlett asks enthusiastically and Crowley just nods, still processing what's happening. He doesn't understand Aziraphale's angle, but he knows you don't look a gift horse in the mouth and if she decided this kind of bribery was needed in order to get his pardon…

Well, he'll just go with it.

* * *

"What do you think of this one?"

Crowley eyes Scarlett without much attention. They're picking out their outfits for the Ball, but the girl has tried on a least 15 different dresses and he's getting tired. Besides, it's been 3 days since the last time he saw Aziraphale and he's already grouchy.

"I don't think gold it's a good idea" he informs her "we're supposed to be undercover"

Scarlett pouts "But I look smoking hot in this"

He rolls his eyes "Undercover, Scarlett"

She pouts some more but goes back to change. It's quite lucky that the Ball is supposed to be a masquerade and Crowley is not willing to compromise their cover because Scarlett wants to catch everyone's eye. Of course, the sexier she looks, the easier she'll find to get whatever information she deems worthy from her "suitors" but still…

He walks around the store's aisles, trying to distract himself. He's itching to call Aziraphale, but he's not sure what should he say. How can he explain his outburst without telling her what he feels? This is getting more and more complicated…

Something catches his eye. Right in the middle of the store stands a mannequin, showcasing a gorgeous red dress, form fitting on the top, off shoulders, A-line at the bottom. It's simple and yet, very dashing.

Aziraphale would look beautiful in it.

So he finds himself buying it and hurriedly hides his purchase with the clothes he bought for himself in the back of his car. When he comes back looking for Scarlett, he finds her paying for a simple black dress, apparently not having noticed his little escapade.

He doesn't know why he keeps doing things like that.

He just know that when it comes to Aziraphale, he can't help himself.

And that's potentially deadly.

He doesn't really care.

* * *

So… what do you think? Let me know! Thanks for reading!


	17. Chapter 17

A new chapter! Hope you enjoy it! Thanks to "WithAllDueRespec" for the lovely review, too!

Good Omens and all characters related are property of Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman.

* * *

Chapter 17

It's been a little over 10 minutes since she came back from her "errand" (meaning delivering the tickets for the Ball to Crowley) and she's already regretting it. Aziraphale sighs, running her fingers through her hair. What was she thinking? It's simply too stupid. Who is she trying to get killed? Herself or Crowley? Or both?

However… she needed to apologize. She knows Crowley is angry with her, because he has made his life's mission to convince her that she's worth more than what people usually think of her and therefore, her fiancé is lucky to have her. At some conscious level, she knows that's the truth. But deep down she can't quite believe it.

Which doesn't mean that she's looking forward to her wedding at all. Nor does it mean that if she found some way to break off her engagement, without giving James the satisfaction of knowing that he's right (and risking her life along the way), she wouldn't take it. She really doesn't want to get married.

Too late for that, though.

She passes James' office and notices he's apparently arguing with Uriel. She tenses immediately, praying to every deity she knows that they're not discussing her late night endeavors. She forces herself to keep walking and try not to look to suspicious, but she's not quite sure if she's being successful.

She locks herself into her office and cradles her head in her arms. God, when did she become this stupid? She knows she can't keep on seeing Crowley. She knows this and yet…

A few minutes later, there's a knock on her door and she has no other choice but to answer it. Uriel and Michel are standing there, staring at her with identical worried looks. She sighs and invites them in with a gesture.

"What can I do for you, gentlemen?" she asks, trying to keep her tone light. While they take a seat, she considers keep on standing, subtly hinting that she wants to keep this visit as short as possible, but decides against it in the last minute.

"Are you okay?" Uriel asks, worriedly and she ponders the question carefully. Finally, she decides against answering and instead poses a question of her own "What were you doing in James' office?"

"He's trying to get Uriel to keep an eye on you" Michel responds "not that he's not doing it already, but of course, he won't report back at him"

"Guys…"

"We're worried about you, Zira" Michel interrupts her "and we're not above using every resource available to us to make sure you're alright"

"Michel, I'm…"

"You're not" Uriel is the one who interrupts this time.

This effectively silences her. She wonders how far did Uriel follow her the night before. Does he know who she was visiting? She doesn't think so; there's no way they would let something like that go unreported. The Archangels love her like a baby sister, but surely they would draw a line if they thought she was betraying Heaven.

And she isn't, of course, but how could they know for sure?

"If you don't want to get married…"

"I'm not discussing this with you" Aziraphale sentences darkly. Her personal life is none of their concern and she can't really explain all that's going on… there's so much at stake; so much depends on this wedding taking place and she playing the part of the perfect bride…

Which she's not really doing right now, but still…

The brothers stare at each other, seemingly holding a silent conversation and Aziraphale forces herself not to start squirming. She's tense and uncomfortable, but most of all, she feels tired. She started this morning feeling invigorated after the night at Crowley's and now…

There's a new knock on her door and she sighs, knowing already who's on the other side "Come in" she says, resigned. As she expected, James is standing there. He stares at the Archangels, rolls his eyes dramatically and enters.

"I just thought I would let you know that it would be better if we stayed at our own apartments for the following week"

"Why?" Aziraphale asks, even though she's relieved. She's not sure how she's going to manage sharing an apartment once they're married because she rather likes having her own place, but the fact that she'll get a whole week on her own…

"My parents are visiting"

Aziraphale bangs her head on her desk as she groans loudly. From the corner of her eye, she catches her companions flinching at the sound, but she doesn't really care. There are more pressing matters.

Great, exactly what she needs. Her in-laws are visiting.

Can it get any worse?

"We're having dinner with them tomorrow, though"

And that's what she gets for tempting her luck.

* * *

There was a time when all that Aziraphale wanted to do with her life was get married, have children and be a perfect little wife and mother. Of course she also thought of going to college and getting a job, but those weren't really important. Her highest priority would be her family.

But a lot of things happened when she turned 16 and as the image of her parents' perfect marriage shattered, so did her plans for a future as a wife and a mother. She decided she wanted more of life… and of course, by the time she turned 18, discovered the dreadful truth of her family and she and James broke up, she had no intention whatsoever to marry or have children.

And yet, here she is now, having dinner with her in-laws, trying very hard not to pick up a fight with her future mother-in-law rewarding her vision of what her life should become once she gets married.

"I don't think I'll be quitting my job, Margareth" Aziraphale sentences darkly, taking a large gulp of her glass of wine.

"And what do you plan on doing with my grandchildren, then? You can't be seriously considering daycare…"

"Maybe" she argues as calmly as she can, but her patience is wearing thin "Maybe we won't have children at all. James and I…"

"Oh, please, Aziraphale" her mother-in-law scoffs "don't be ridiculous. James, tell your wife to stop being ridiculous"

She would like to point out she's not his wife yet, but she knows she has to choose her battles when dealing with her mother-in-law "I'm not being…"

"Because really, Aziraphale, why else would James be getting married to you?"

She stares at her fiancé, and seeing he's not going to intervene, she asks "What is that supposed to mean?"

Margareth rolls her eyes "I mean you're a dreadful at housekeeping and he's already having sex with you, so…"

Oh, she did not just say that. That's so… so…! "Excuse me" she says, standing up and walking away quickly, before she starts yelling. She's angry at James for not defending her and she's angry at herself for letting something like this bother her. She knows how her in-laws think. Old-fashioned, you could call them, but Aziraphale thinks they are just basically full of shit. She knows her fiancé doesn't really share their views, but she also knows he won't get into an argument with his parents for her sake.

Which tells an awful lot about their relationship.

As she strolls out of the restaurant, she takes a deep breath and leans against the wall once outside. She wants to go home and curl on her bed and never get up. Or better yet, she wants to go to Crowley's and lay on his bed, with him on top of her, kissing her and…

No, no, no! She's not thinking that!

She looks through the window and sees her in-laws and her fiancé. Margareth is frowning (probably due her hasty exit) while her husband tries to get her to relax. James' back is to her, so she really doesn't know what he's doing.

She sighs and leans against the wall once more. She can't handle this. She won't be able to get through this dinner without yelling and she won't be able to go through this marriage without losing herself…

But she must. The show must go on, regardless of her feelings on the matter. It's vital that this wedding takes place. She sneaks another glance at her in-laws. In the end, James might chose not to reveal her secrets if she doesn't marry him. His parents, however…

That's an entirely different matter.

Her mobile is beeping, so she takes it out and sees a new message. She opens it, one eyebrow arched and finds a text from her fiancé. _**Are you coming back or are you heading back home?**_

She considers it. She knows she should go back and yet… _**I'm going home**__._

A few seconds pass without answer. Then… _**Alright. GO HOME.**_

_Don't go to Crowley's_. She's quite certain he doesn't know she has been to her enemy's apartment, but still, the message seems to relay said order. She sighs once more and starts walking, hoping to catch a cab soon, because it's late and she's tired and…

And she just really wants to be home.

* * *

There's someone in her apartment. Aziraphale climbs the stairs, trying not to get her hopes up. Crowley might have already decided to forgive her (she gave him two tickets to Heaven's Charity Ball, after all!) but she doubts he'll show up at her apartment knowing that her fiancé is keeping an eye on her.

She heads towards the kitchen, pours herself a glass of water and heads towards her bedroom. The light is on and there's a man sitting on her bed, but not the one she wants to. Later, she'll feel guilty about her disappointment, but right now, she's just upset.

"What are you doing here, Michel?"

Her boss looks up from the magazine he's reading and stares at her carefully. He pats the space next to him on bed and Aziraphale rolls her eyes, but complies to the unspoken request. She sits and lets her head rest against Michel's shoulder, before sighing dramatically "I'm so tired" she whispers and her companion throws an arm around her shoulders comfortingly.

"I know" he says "I hope that whatever you're hiding is worth all of this"

Aziraphale considers telling him the truth. Then she thinks better of it.

"Yes. It is"

* * *

Next morning, she wakes up as early as usual. She prepares breakfast trying to make as little noise as possible, considering Michel is sleeping on the floor of what would be her living room. She has a couch on the backstore and she offered to share the bed, but Michel refused both options, preferring to settle on the floor with some pillows and a comfy blanket.

Someone knocks on the back door and Aziraphale arches her eyebrows. Who would be visiting this early? She throws on a robe and heads downstairs but as soon she opens the door, she wishes she hadn't.

"Good morning, Margareth"

Both she and her future mother-in-law are early risers. James and his father like to sleep late, although her fiancé doesn't get the chance to do it a lot. However, since it's the weekend, she suspects she'll have to handle Margareth on her own for a long while.

"Morning, Aziraphale. Aren't you going to invite me in?"

She's tempted to say "no" but finally just opens the door and her mother-in-law lets herself in. She climbs the stairs without waiting for Aziraphale to say it's okay to do so and she sighs. It's going to be a long morning. Although now she's thankful that Crowley didn't show up last night. This whole encounter would be far more awkward if…

"Aziraphale!"

Oh. Right. Michel.

Damn.

It's official. Her life sucks.

* * *

"I really think you shouldn't marry" Michel tells her later, when she joins him for a "shopping trip", looking for something to wear to the Ball, in an attempt to escape another meal with James' parents "Your mother-in-law is…"

"Awful?"

"Well, yes. And she seems to hate you"

"Yes, I think she does" Aziraphale smiles, while Michel picks a bunch of suits to try on "are you really going to buy a new suit for the Ball?"

"Yes" Michel responds in all seriousness "and you should buy a new dress"

Aziraphale scoffs "I don't see the point. I hate dresses"

Michel rolls his eyes, while he picks some shirts to match the suits "Well, it's your choice, I suppose" he pauses once they're standing in front of the changing rooms "Zira, I… I wish you would reconsider this marriage business. You deserve so much more that a marriage of convenience"

Why are all (well, most) of the men in her life set on convincing her not to marry? She sighs "I'll be fine, Michel. Don't worry about me"

He stares at her, measuring her words. Finally, shaking his head and sighing, he concedes defeat "There's no changing your mind, is it? You were always so headstrong"

Aziraphale just smiles sadly.

* * *

Two days before the Ball, after yet another god-awful dinner with her in-laws, she finds the light of her room on again. There's no sign of a visitor, except for the small box resting over her bed. She opens it, revealing a beautiful red dress that immediately makes her smile and then roll her eyes good-naturedly.

Apparently, Crowley is also dead-set on improving her style.

The thought makes her smile.

* * *

Well, would you look at that? I managed to write an update regardless of my boss attempts to get me to work instead of write! LOL

Anyway, I meant to include much more scenes, but I just couldn't manage to write them as funny as they sounded in my head, so I decided against them. I hope the timing within the story isn't confusing, but I'm not sure…

Oh, and I finally have a title, you noticed? It comes from the song I mentioned previously, "barely breathing" What do you think?

Thanks for reading!


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